


Scarlet Fever

by GhostManatee



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: F/M, Friendly flirting turned to actual flirting, Friends to Lovers, I am frankly weak as fuck for that combination, Meddling Trish and Lady, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-03-01 05:13:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18793702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostManatee/pseuds/GhostManatee
Summary: Taking over a pawn shop after your grandfather's death had been surprisingly easy. So it was in a bit of a crappy part of town. So people tried to sell you more illegal guns than you could count. At least your neighbor wasn’t so bad, and he had a sexy-ass coat to boot.A Dante/Reader fic because Dante is a sexy bastard who deserves more fics.[Fem Reader, may contain spoilers for the series. Rating subject to change.]





	1. A Box of Guns

**Author's Note:**

> After finishing Light and Noise, I was struck by an idea that just wouldn't leave me alone. I'll still be working diligently on Anathema, while alternating to write chapters for this one as well.

You’d never understand why your grandparents built the shop where they had. Maybe once upon a time, this particular street had been prime real estate that helped to ensure the business’ livelihood, but nowadays the town was a bit of a dump. They had to have been onto  _ something  _ though. Even after a recession hit, and shops that had been around for decades went up in smoke, the pawn business stayed strong. If anything, you found that business was even more steady with the decline in the neighborhood. 

Then again, you’d only been running the place for three months since your grandad passed. Gramma was too frail to man the shop (not to mention it hurt too much for her to be there, where her beloved had built a life for her), and neither of your parents had wanted it, so the responsibility fell to you. In all honesty, it would’ve been an easy thing to just sell the place, but you didn’t have the heart to do it. Kingsley's Pawn Shop had been grandad’s pride and joy. Besides, the store had a fully functional apartment upstairs, making it a perfect place for a do-over life. 

It felt like every avenue you’d pursued in life had gone sour. Enchanted by the promise of stardom, you’d given a go at music early on, but both your time and youth had been squandered on those nowhere-dreams before you knew it. All you were left with was a badly-tuned Gibson Les Paul guitar and a broken heart. You’d tried normal jobs too, anything to pay the bills, but they were soul-crushing and you’d been stuck in what felt like a decade of depression as a result. You didn’t exactly have many prospects or anything to lose by the time the shop fell into your care. 

In the end, it had honestly all worked out a little too perfectly. In the little time you’d been there, you picked up on the ins and outs of the job like you’d been doing it for years. Technically, you supposed that  _ was  _ true to a degree. Childhood summers at your grandad’s side had ingrained a basic knowledge of the business at a young age, knowledge that served you well when you started out. Thanks to the good practices put into place years and years ago, you enjoyed low-rated utilities and rarely found your refrigerator empty. 

It was an easy job that paid well enough to live comfortably, and you didn’t have to make a commute across town seeing as you lived right above the shop. Grandad had interesting taste, too, decorating the walls with Grateful Dead posters and t-shirts. Over time, it really felt like it contributed to your own tastes. Finding the combination of macabre imagery and bright psychedelic colors to be oddly charming, you found yourself adding to the decor with framed oddities you sometimes took in from customers. All in all, you didn’t really have much to complain about with your arrangement. 

But you  _ did  _ live in a crappier part of the neighborhood. That meant that the roads were all cracked to hell, pitted with potholes and crumbled sidewalks that certainly wouldn’t make for ideal greeting card pictures. The streets were flat-out ugly, even just in passing. 

And crappy neighborhood sometimes meant crappy customers. Junkies high out of their minds, wannabe thugs, the occasional strung-out twenty something trying to sell their mother’s jewelry for drug money; you’d seen and dealt with them all, and none were ever very pleasant. It was because of them that you kept a loaded gun behind the counter. You had a permit for it, you took it out to the shooting range every weekend, and if push came to shove, you felt confident you could use it. 

Not all of your customers were bad news, though. Indeed, the good mostly outnumbered the bad. From old hobbyists looking for hidden treasures to young budding musicians who reminded you way too much of yourself, you soon learned that nearly every customer had an interesting story to tell. Favorites tended to be those who would try selling you oddities and unique trinkets, things that they knew in their heart of hearts would never sell. You accepted them anyway, as long as they were legal, and often got to hear the stories behind how they got said items in the first place, having a particular soft spot for creepy things preserved in formaldehyde. Sure, they’d never sell, but you liked how they made for interesting conversation pieces, both with customers old and new. 

And maybe, just  _ maybe  _ you legitimately thought the little mouse skeletons in amber vials were kind of charming. 

Thankfully, if anybody had caught onto your little morbid fascination yet, they didn’t say so. If they did, you’d probably be bankrupt from all the weird things they’d bring in to take advantage of that. Lucky then that nobody seemed to have any sort of surplus on oddities--except for one guy. 

He was kind of in a realm all his own though. 

From the very first day you’d taken over the store, he held onto the title of “weirdest customer” without contention. He’d brought in a whole box of firearms you knew on sight were illegal, asking how much he could get for them. 

You’d learn later that he was always struggling to pay his bills, and that the guns were customs from a friend of his. But you didn’t know that then. What you knew then was the fact that the man in front of you looked like he hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep in  _ months _ , and that only made you feel more suspicious. 

“Yeah...no.”

Your answer, blunt, flat, and lacking in finesse had the man barking out a laugh of surprise. 

“If it's about the quality, I can assure you that you’ll not find better--”

“Not about the quality,” you cut him off. “It’s about the fact that I cannot legally accept any firearms that are unregistered or that have such ah..unique additions that would make them unsuitable for resale.”

It was a song and dance you’d learned early on. It was honestly laughable how many people tried to sell such things, or grenade casings they’d bought at an army surplus store, or boxes of various parts you couldn't identify. You’d lost count after a while, and there was even a closet stacked high with boxes of random crap that people had just left behind after it became clear you weren’t going to bite. Those particular boxes were usually attempts to get rid of incriminating evidence, but more often than not were just full of junk. And well, the police in the area were completely useless, so you just kept them in storage. It wasn’t as though anyone would do anything about them, but you weren't about to sully your grandad’s reputation by selling them. 

So yeah, you were a stickler for your rules. After the first and only time you’d willingly accepted a bad gun, you made sure that it would never happen again, woken from a nightmare of grandad staring disapprovingly at you from the foot of your bed. 

The man had the decency to look sheepish about it, at least. He took the box down from the counter and balanced it with one arm while he worked to rummage around in his pocket for something. 

“This place sure has changed since the last time I was here,” he remarked. 

His eyes were taking in the decor you’d put up, darting around leisurely before settling on you once more. Already a bit suspicious of the man, you reached slowly for the gun strapped under the counter. 

“It’s under new management now,” you answered, trying to sound nonchalant. “Gramps died earlier this year, so I’m running the joint.” 

He grinned at you, the expression morphing his features into something rakish and disarmingly playful. You knew you weren’t the most intimidating creature in the universe, barely passing five feet in height and wearing a band t-shirt, lacking in bulk or a mean enough face to really pull it off, but you liked to think the professionalism you carried, along with your sharp tone made you at least a little bit respectable. That smile was just...patronizing. 

You were half tempted to shoot him just for that. 

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that, little lady. You seem to be holding up well though.”

Ugh, yep. Definitely patronizing. Your fingers just brushed over the body of the gun when the man pulled something out of his pocket to lay on the top of the glass jewelry displays. Blinking, curiosity got the best of you and you gazed down at the object, hand still warily poised for the gun. 

“Since the guns are ah...a no-go, does this strike your fancy a little better?”

Chancing a glance at his face, you saw that he still had that crooked grin. Was he trying to be reassuring? You rolled your eyes a little, but decided to humor him at least. 

The object turned out to be several, an assortment of small pocket fillers that ran the gamut from pizza receipts to odd bits of stone and coins. Raising an eyebrow, you decided then and there that this man hardly posed a thread. The hand resting so close to your gun now relaxed a bit, and you couldn’t resist a chuckle. 

No, this man was desperate, but not dangerous. 

“Love Planet, huh?” 

You flicked a balled-up flyer off the counter, more than familiar with the trashy strip joint it came from. Looking up at the man, you finally cracked a smile of your own. He chuckled in turn, giving you a shrug as it fo say ‘what are you gonna do?’ Shaking your head, you returned to sorting through the junk. After a bit, you stopped, looking directly at the man with your hands on your hips. 

“You know, if you’re that desperate for cash, you’ve got something a lot more valuable than pocket lint to offer.”

You knew your tone, the lilt of your voice, and the sweeping motion you made towards him could all be taken to be flirtatious. And sure enough, his grin turned to wolfish amusement. 

“Well, I’m flattered little lady, but I’m not really an easy kind of guy.”

“Your coat, doofus,” you answered, still grinning. 

His eyebrows shot up in surprise, giving you a look of mild offense. You found yourself giving another easy chuckle, by now totally relaxed. It really was a lovely coat. Deep, merlot-shaded red, custom made, perfectly fitted. The leather looked real too, heavy and buttery and warm. A coat like that would fetch a pretty penny if he decided to sell it to you. 

(Not that you’d sell it. You could easily see yourself wearing it all on your own, self-indulgently wrapped up in the old worn leather.)

“No way,” he answered. “Sorry, but I can’t just go giving you a big part of my signature look.” 

You snorted at that. Signature look? Yeah, honestly it was easy to see. The man didn’t seem like he went anywhere without it. Not to say you’d thought it would be so easy to convince him to part with it, but it had been worth a shot. The doofy smile couldn’t seem to leave your face. 

“It’s a good coat,” you said. 

He propped his elbows up on your counter thoughtfully, leaning forward in what he must have considered was a convincing manner. 

“Come on, there’s got to be something here you like.”

You stared at him again,and it struck you just how powerful his forearms looked. That muscular bulk definitely looked like it extended to the rest of him, like he’d have zero issues in picking you up and...oh yeah, there was something there you liked, alright.

No, bad thoughts! Sure, he was roguishly hot at a glance, but where in the hell had  _ that  _ train of thought come from? You shrugged, both at the man and at the intrusive thought. 

“I saw the stuff you have hanging up,” he pointed out, picking up an item from the pile. “What about this?” 

That startled a genuine laugh out of you. No one really ever remarked on the framed and preserved pheasant, or the fake taxidermy “chimera” you had on the counter, or the little jousting frogs on a shelf above the register, at least not to try to make a sale. Leave it to this guy to be the first. 

Looking down at the object, it looked like an eyeball, something carved out of a smooth metal with a shifting color surface, like bismuth but sturdier, shinier. It would make an interesting pendant, you thought. 

(Actually, your real thought was ‘aesthetic,’ but the thought made you want to slap yourself.)

Eyeing the man, you saw him wink. He had you and he knew it. You grit your teeth, fighting an exasperated groan. 

“...alright, let me get my magnifiers.”

Turning around to fetch the object in question gave you a good opportunity to collect yourself. It was rare, very rare for you to feel thrown off like this. Most people came in with explicit intent to pawn or sell, knew exactly what they wanted for their goods, and knew exactly what it was they were selling. It wasn’t even close to common for people to offer you pocket junk like he had, and even less common than that to find yourself legitimately charmed by it. 

Really though, if it was any old chump who tried it, you knew you’d have laughed them out of your store. You’d only allowed it because of how handsome you thought he was, how casually he wore his good looks. Sure, he was a bit scruffy, and his hair was as white as snow, as if he were pushing sixty. But he didn’t  _ look  _ old, not nearly, and if you were being honest with yourself he hit all of your buttons. Not that you were about to say that to him. 

Or to anyone, for that matter. 

Turning with the magnifiers, you picked up the metal eye and examined it in complete silence, willing yourself to stay professional. Finally, after the man started to tap his fingers on the counter, you put the tool down. 

“I’ll give you a hundred fifty for it.”

“You’re for real?”   
The man looked genuinely surprised, and you weren't sure if it was because of the price or your willingness to actually take the thing. 

“I can’t offer any more than that,” you answered, scratching awkwardly at the base of your ponytail. “It’s an unknown metal, and if I’m being perfectly honest not likely to sell. If you’re looking to pawn it’d be a little more, but outright I’d just be keeping it for myself.”

“No, no. I mean, I’m surprised it’s even worth that much. A hundred fifty is good. More than good.” The man huffed out a laugh. “Hell, that’s enough to get the lights back on and fill up the fridge for a few days.” 

The smile he wore now was genuine, full of warmth that differed from the cocky smirk from before, and this smile had your insides flipping. In reality, the metal eye pendant thing was probably worth less than what you offered, but he was hot and you liked his coat and he was such a nice change from the usual desperate customer that you couldn’t help but offer a little more. Most people tended to get a bit aggressive and try to barter or upsell, and you’d been fully prepared for that tonight. Instead, you’d been treated to a breath of fresh air and some eye candy. That smile alone was worth the extra fifty bucks. 

“Really, you saved my ass, little lady.” 

You scoffed yet again, rolling your eyes a little. 

“Keep calling me that and I’ll knock the price down. I’ve got a name, damnit.” And so you gave it, pleased when he tried it out. 

“Yeah, that name suits you well. So, what do we do from here?”

You bent down to reach for a plain folder tucked onto a low shelf behind the counter. Grabbing one of the papers there, along with a pen from a badly-made ceramic cup (which  _ might  _ have been meant to be a cat) beside the register, you slapped the items down on the counter in front of him. 

“Paperwork time,” you chuckled. “Boring but necessary.” 

You circled a few vital things on the form; name, address, contact number, and the line for a signature. 

“Just take care of these parts. I’ll do the rest.” 

Pushing the paper towards him, you opened up the register to count out a fifty, a bunch of twenties, and a couple of tens. Once that was done, you picked up the metal eye and plopped it into a small zipper bag for storage. The man quickly finished filling out the form and you gave it a quick once-over while filling out your own portion. Surprise of surprises, the address listed was directly across the street from yours. As in, you could walk thirty steps and be able to knock on his door. 

“Heh, you’re the guy who runs the weird shop across the street?” you asked, noting that the name on the form read “Tony Redgrave” in a surprisingly neat hand. 

Hm. He didn’t really look like a Tony. 

“You’re the one with a set of animal skeletons dressed like they’re about to star in Hamlet and you think my shop’s the weird one?”

“Touche!” You laughed. “Alright, Tony. You’re all set. If you were pawning, there’d be a whole other form to fill and I’d give you the speech about paying me back in thirty days or the item would be put up for sale, but I get the feeling you won’t be back for it.” 

You handed him the stack of money with a wink, stashing the form under the counter. 

“Be seeing you, neighbor. Take care now.” 

Thinking that would be that, you gave little lingering thought to the encounter, unaware that it was only the first of many meetings to be had with your strange neighbor. Rather than being a single encounter and never seeing him again, you saw Tony in your shop every couple of weeks or so. At first, he tried the same tactic with oddities, and for a while you eagerly accepted them. Weird bird talons, something that looked like a large blob of crystallized blood carved into a screaming face, and eventually a really creepy thing that looked like an apple with human teeth; initially you were happy enough to have them, and you knew of course that Tony was happy to be able to pay his utilities. But after a while, you knew you’d have to put a stop to it, and that stop came the day he tried to sell you a large mounted beast head. You sighed when he brought it in, holding up your hands. 

“Look, you know I like weird shit, and I’m always happy to help you out, but I’m going to have to cut you off. You’ve brought that thing in eight times this month. And as much as I hate to have to do it, unless you gimme something I can actually resell, I’ve got to tell you no.” 

Tony rubbed thoughtfully at his chin, pacing the length of the counter and staring down at the beast head as if it was the thing’s fault, not his. You felt bad, honestly, but the truth of the matter was that if you kept taking every little thing he gave you, you’d incur a loss. You just couldn’t let grandad down like that. It was in your very blood to run the business in an efficient way, to ensure you made ends meet. You just hoped Tony would be understanding about it. It really sucked to have to give him the bad news. 

“Something sellable, huh?” He looked at you, and--oh, there was that easy-going grin of his. “Like my coat?”

He spread his arms wide, fanning out the tails of that glorious, glorious coat you had come to covet, and you couldn't even hope to stifle a laugh. 

“Baby, if you sold me that coat, I’d just give you the whole goddamn shop and everything in it.” 

Your tone was light, despite the flirtatious words and the nickname which only served to incriminate you further. You definitely had a soft spot for the guy. The tone served its purpose though, getting Tony to throw his head back in a laugh. 

“Still on about that, huh? I told you before, I can’t just part with my signature look like that.” 

He crossed his arms over his chest, and you could only shake your head at him.  You finished counting out the register and moved to flip the ‘open’ sign on the door to closed, all the while shaking your head as he came up with other suggestions. 

“Come on, maybe I can talk you into my old jukebox? Only works ten percent of the time and I  _ might  _ have dented it a few years back, but it’s a classic.” 

“Good night, Tony,” you said insistently. “I’m sure I’ll see you again soon, hauling in a bunch of obscure-ass records or a box of broken toasters.”

He headed out, knowing when to throw in the towel, a good-natured ruffle of your hair accompanying his departure. 

You gave him a friendly smile in turn, waving at him until he was across the street back in his own shop. Locking the door and flipping the lights off, you couldn’t help but think one more time that the business really was perfect for you. So it was in a bit of a crappy part of town. So people tried to sell you more illegal guns than you could count. At least your neighbor wasn’t so bad, and he had a sexy-ass coat to boot. 


	2. Boots and Broken Windows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm having fun, I hope you're having fun, and we're just gonna keep on truckin with this story! This story now has a playlist on spotify, if you're interested in that sort of thing.  
> https://tinyurl.com/y2nbkddn  
> If you have any songs you'd like to suggest for the playlist or the story, please let me know!  
> I also have a tumblr where I occasionally post updates and things relevant to the stories I write, so check me out at ghostmanatee.tumblr.com where you can send me asks, look at weird things I sometimes reblog, and just interact with me more in general!

The demon huntress Lady, formerly called Mary, had borne witness to what felt like a hundred atrocities in her lifetime. She had seen demonic statues coming to life, her own father trying to morph into a devil, and had helped put a stop to dozens of crazed souls trying to transform the human world into a hellscape. She had witnessed horrors upon horrors, had survived multiple hells on Earth,and yet never in her life did she think she’d witness Dante willingly cleaning anything.

She’d come by to give him a tip about a job--some cultist thing, by the sounds of it--and needed his help. Yet when Lady did not immediately see him loafing around by his desk, she didn’t think much of it. It was only when she took note of the fact that the power was on for once, and that the area around the desk was free of garbage that Lady felt any sense of alarm.

Had Dante up and left the shop again? Did he actually find a gig that paid well? Had he been replaced by a doppelganger? The office area was clean enough now that most of the stale, acrid smell had dissipated, and were it not for the noises of rummaging coming from upstairs, she would have dismissed the shop as completely empty.

Instantly on high alert, Lady pulled one of her guns from its holster and made her way upstairs as stealthily as she could. The centermost step creaked loudly underfoot, and she froze to listen for signs of danger. Met by utter silence, she sped her footsteps, charging directly for Dante's room where she kicked open the door, aiming in a wide sweep of the room. There sat Dante, innocently going through a box from his closet. He blinked, Lady blinked, and then a trademark grin spread over his face.

“Well, hello to you too. If this is how you greet all the guys, I wonder why you’re still single?”

That cocky snark tinged with just the slightest bit of assholishness let her know that he was indeed the real Dante and not some imposter. Lady lowered her gun.

“So, where’s the fire?” Dante asked.

“I...your office is clean,” Lady pointed out.

Dante quirked a brow.

“Yeah. So?”

“So your office is _clean_ , Dante. You _never_ clean. I thought the worst had happened.”

Dante couldn’t easily dismiss the laughter that escaped him at that response.

“What, so me cleaning is a sign of the end times now?”

“One can only wonder,” Lady retorted. “So if nothing’s wrong, what’s the occasion?”

“New ventures and supplemental income,” came the answer. “Turns out there’s a lot a pawn shop’ll buy from you.”

Lady chanced a look down at the box he was going through, and the items he had stacked next to it. Glass  bottles, books, old albums and magazines...it was mostly junk, but within the pile were two old pairs of boots. They were still in good enough condition to try making some money off of them. Lady knew Dante’s tastes hadn’t varied a ton since his youth (if anything just getting slightly less tacky as time went on... ~~they still didn’t talk about the cowboy boots from a few years back~~ ), so both pairs were definitely real leather.

Still, she never thought she’d live to see him cleaning or willingly getting rid of things like this. Had he really gotten so desperate for cash, or was there something else?

“Is that what’s going on? You’ve been pawning off all your junk?” She thought of the spotless office. Well, spotless for him. It’d probably take _another_ miracle to get him to spray and wipe anything down.

“Nah, the junk’s all gone off where it belongs. Shop across the street won’t take anything that isn’t worth a damn.”

The shop across the street...Lady had been there a time or two recently, getting a good deal on some new gloves. She recalled the proprietor, a short woman strumming on an old guitar, singing out loud in a rather pleasant voice during the slower moments in the shop. Lady hadn’t given much thought to any of it, hadn’t thought the woman was suspicious or unusual in any way...aside from maybe her questionable taste in morbid and colorful decor. Did she really pay Dante that well for his junk?

 _Oh_.

“Kingsley’s? Oh, you **ass**!”

Lady did not aim her gun at him again, as she may have in days long past, but she did jab him hard in the chest with an index finger. Dante rose, throwing his hands up in surrender as he slowly backed up.

“What?”

“You’re taking advantage of that poor girl! It’s only been a few months since the old man died. She’s got enough on her plate without you harassing her.”

“Harassing?” Normally one to joke back in response, Dante legitimately looked a little offended. He was pretty fond of you, actually. In what world would he do something like that to you? “How’d you know about the old guy anyhow?”

“Because I actually pay attention to the world around me. And don’t change the subject!”

“I’m not doing anything wrong. They’re legitimate transactions, and it’s not just her buying from me. I’ve picked up a few things there, and I haven’t done a damn thing to her.” Dante kept his tone calm and even.

“But he certainly _wants_ to do things to her,” chimed in another voice.

There in the doorway, freshly returned from a job, in all her leggy blonde glory stood Trish. She looked at Lady, then to Dante, her lips curled into a knowing smirk. It was at that exact moment that the Legendary Demon Hunter Dante, son of the Equally Legendary Dark Knight Sparda, slayer of a thousand fiends and owner of the Devil May Cry business, wondered just when he’d lost agency over his home, business, and personal life.

And after another moment of contemplation, he came to the damning realization that he’d never had any to begin with.

“Trish,” he spoke warningly, pleadingly. “It’s not like that. Even if it was, this job isn’t exactly ideal for a relationship.”

That statement alone was enough to sober both women into silence, banishing their light-hearted teasing. He was right in some ways. Being a demon hunter meant risking one’s life every day, dealing with otherworldly horrors that few people even knew existed. Then there was the matter of Dante’s other baggage, the demonic heritage handed down in his very blood. Even this late in life, he considered himself something of a freak.

The man stooped down to pick up the two pairs of boots, brushing past Trish on heavy footfalls.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna see if these are worth enough to pay off my tab at the pizza place. It’s been a while and I’m overdue for some ham and tomato.”

Giving a little two-fingered salute, he was off down the stairs, not even bothering to put on his coat for his haste to get out of there.

“She’s a nice girl,” Trish spoke first. “Very down to Earth.”

So she’d had an encounter or two with the pawn shop owner too?

“If it’s enough to get him to actually clean up, she must have something special going for her,” Lady answered. “So we’re going to meddle, right?”

Trish laughed derisively, hands perched lightly on her hips.

“You know we are. How could we possibly resist?”

If Dante had any inclination that the two women were plotting behind his back, he didn’t show it. In a way, he was completely oblivious even when he stepped through your doors a mere minute after you were normally closed.

There you were, as expected, sat upon the edge of your counter with your legs dangling off. For a moment, he just watched you work, fishing items out of a container of jewelry cleaner and laying them on a layer of paper towels to dry. Something he’d noticed about you early on was how much movement you had, even when you were seated or doing something that people would normally be still for. So it was with amusement that he watched you idly kicking your legs to the beat of some non-existent song (or at least, one that existed only in your own head). It took you only seconds to realize he was there, however, raising your head to regard him with a smile.

“If it isn’t my favorite neighbor!” You greeted, smile faltering dramatically as you took note of the lack of coat. “You fiend! You said you couldn’t part with your coat under any circumstances!”

How you loved to poke fun, limiting your jabs to light-hearted banter you knew he didn’t mind. There was never any venom in any of your insults, just a melodramatic inflection that you knew would get a smile from him every time. You'd burn the world for a smile like that. Every time. It had been years and years since your last relationship, and while this wasn't anything like that and you weren't about to push it, it was kind of nice to just experience it as it was without pressure or expectation.

“Hey now, just because it’s part of my look doesn’t mean I have to use it as a second skin. Besides, it’s a little too warm for it tonight.”

“Fair enough,” you shrugged. “But you realize the store’s closed, right?”

“That so?” Tony turned in a circle, as if looking at your store for the first time, exaggeratedly rubbing at his stubble. “If that’s the case, you really ought to lock your doors. That’s just asking for trouble.”

You hopped down from the counter, rolling your eyes.

“I think the biggest source of trouble just walked through my door. You _know_ when I close, Tony.”

He grinned, that very same troublesome and cocky smile that hit you right in the gut the first night you’d met him. Dressed down without the coat, he looked even more casual, more approachable. Dangerously so. You grit your teeth against the urge to yank him in by the neck of his shirt and kiss the cockiness right out of him. Damnit, he made you _want_ , and you knew you shouldn't. Guys like him never worked out for you. He was trouble alright.

“Aw, come on. You know you like it when I visit. You said it yourself, I’m your favorite neighbor. You’re not gonna turn me out after i came all this way, are you?”

He spoke as though the trek to the shop was twenty miles, not twenty steps, and you stifled a groan. You stepped closer to glare up at him with your hands on your hips, no actual anger or annoyance in  your frame. Unfortunately, he knew it, and he also knew your weak points. He really was a favorite visitor, even if he did cost you more money than he should…

There was that playful wink, and just like that you were done in.

“Of course not. What’d you bring in?”

He set the two pairs of boots on the counter, prompting a sharp whistle from you. They looked sort of old, but were in fairly good condition save a few scuffs. They were a bit out of fashion too, but you were certain there was someone who’d buy them. Like with his coat, the boots were real leather. You rubbed your hands together, as if you’d just been given a key piece of your master plan for world domination.

“Well, I’ll be damned. You actually brought me something good.”

“Hey now, everything I bring in here is quality. It’s not my fault you’re so picky, Sunshine.”

The man reached down, tapping your nose mockingly before you swatted his hands away.

“Whatever, just give me a minute to look at them and I’ll give you your money in a bit. Go get some of the pizza I’ve got upstairs or something, just get out of my hair.”

He didn’t need telling twice. The instant pizza was mentioned, all bets were off the table, even if it was cold. It was almost like you'd read his mind. Though he’d only been upstairs once before, he figured out the layout to your apartment quickly, and the smell of a favorite food was a siren’s song. At the top of the steps, however, he allowed himself a pause to look down at you. You seemed focused, yet relaxed, totally in  your element as you gave the boots a once-over before counting out a stack of bills and locking the rest into a safe. In every regard, you were like a breath of fresh air. Your easy going nature, sharp wit, and generosity were a potent combination, drawing him to you like a moth to a flame. The banter was flirtatious, fun, and left him with a certain sense of longing, but…

Well, he couldn’t risk crossing that line with you. No matter how tempting. No matter how comfortable and normal interaction with you felt, giving him a taste of a life he could have had if he hadn’t gone into business doing what he did. Getting any closer meant putting you at risk. Hell, he didn’t even trust himself to give you his real name. Shaking his head, he continued on his way.

Had he stayed just a few seconds longer, he’d have seen the stranger approaching the door you’d forgotten to lock. He’d have seen him pull a gun, raise it at your head, and demand you open the safe.

For your part, you were fairly calm about it, even if you _did_ kind of want to pee yourself. You really, really should have locked the door.

“Agh, are you _kidding_ me?” you muttered, keeping  your hands high as you made your way to the safe.

It was only a matter of time before someone tried to rob you, really. Living where you did, running the kind of business you did, it was sort of bound to happen. You wanted to make a move for your gun, but it was all the way at the other end of the counter opposite the safe. To go for it now was tantamount to suicide. The stranger would know what was up immediately. So you did your best to just breathe, hoping against hope that Tony would stay upstairs.

“Hurry the fuck up!” the stranger snarled. “I don’t have all night.”

How ironic would it be, you thought, if he took all the pawned jewelry and tried to pawn it somewhere else? What if the jewelry on the counter had come from such a thing? How deep did the pawn-ception go? In your state of adrenaline-fueled fear, the thought made you giggle out loud. But that was a mistake. This guy was jumpy, hurried, paranoid. He raised the gun that was pointing at you, aimed it at one of the store’s (expensive) glass windows, and fired. Were you not already well used to the sound of gunfire, you’d have startled much more severely. It wasn’t as ear-splitting and echoing as in movies, more of a loud pop than anything. But the shatter of the store window got to you, the piercing splinter of the pane sending your heart to pounding. You let out a yelp of surprise.

“Get a move on,” the man growled out, pointing the gun at you again. “Make another fucking noise and it’ll be your goddamn skull next!”

You could feel yourself shaking, bile creeping up in the back of your throat, but you put your hands up and slowly made your way to the safe.

 _Just stay calm,_ you told yourself, _and it'll be over soon. It'll be an insurance nightmare and replacing that window will be a pain in the ass, but it'll be okay. You'll be okay._

Fortunately, it was right at the moment of the glass shattering that your neighbor returned from his pizza-seeking venture. You didn’t see him coming back downstairs at all, and would later theorize that he jumped over the railing, but you only had about two seconds to fear for him before an elbow to the throat disarmed the would-be robber. You looked on, shock making you stupid as he basically scruffed the guy like a cat and put him in a headlock. The gun had clattered to the ground the second Tony’s elbow hit him in the throat.

“That’s no way to treat a lady, pal. And if you’re gonna use a gun you’d better know _how_. You’ll put an eye out with stunts like that.”

He gestured to the broken window, forcibly turning the man to survey the damage he’d done, feet crunching over the shards of glass.

“See, look at that. You made a mess.”

Despite his casual and playfully chosen words, his tone was serious and stern. Any viciousness was gone right out of the robber, fear bleeding into him in the face of Tony’s icy gaze. Stunned, you crept forward slowly. You'd never seen him like this, the dangerous and steely anger. His eyes alone could kill someone, you thought.

He let go, and the man all but scampered out the door, cutting his hand on the shattered window in the process.

The entire hold up had only taken a few seconds, but in your mind it felt like eternity. The would-be murderer was gone, honestly an afterthought already. You could only stare at Tony, hysteria bubbling up in you. It was only when he turned towards you that you were even able to breathe again.

“You okay there, Sunshine?”

You opened your mouth to speak, finding your voice stuck for the moment. You weren’t going to cry or anything, but you were shaking so hard you had to clench your hands into fists just to keep steady. Taking a deep breath, you tried again, having more success when Tony laid a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m...I’m good. I...thank you. I don't know what could have happened if you hadn’t been here, To--”

“Dante! I heard gunfire, where’s the...oh.”

The door swung open again and you yelped, reaching for the gun that wasn’t there on instinct. In stepped a woman with short, choppy dark hair, various guns strapped onto her thighs. Your shock at the near-robbery wore off in favor of shock over her sudden arrival. Come to think of it, she looked a bit familiar. Hadn’t she come in here a few times before? And what of that name she’d said?

“Dante?”

The name honestly fit him a lot better, rolling off your tongue with ease and, judging by the way he looked at you, it was indeed his real name. He exchanged a look with the short-haired woman, as if she’d said something she shouldn’t have. And now that you really looked at her, some things were starting to click into place. The name he’d given you, the box of guns, the way he’d handled the robber, his mysterious shop across the street…

“I get it,” you said, reaching a specific conclusion in your less than calm state. “You’re bounty hunters.”

The man, who you now knew to be Dante, looked to his longtime friend and business partner, and decided that he would roll with it for simplicity’s sake.

“I didn’t really want you to find out like that. But I guess as neighbors it would have come up sooner or later.”

He hated how convincing he sounded, hated how easily you bought the lie. He hated the way he continued to craft and elaborate on that lie when Trish arrived. She and Lady helped to board up the shot-out window while Dante “explained” his business to you. He hated that the true nature of his shop lent itself well to his story, built on a half-lie. But in a way, he felt grateful for Lady’s slip-up.

Because he _didn’t_ hate the way that his name, his real name, sounded when you said it.  



	3. Pizza Delivery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An effort to pay back the kindness done results in you wanting more.

Exactly as you’d expected, dealing with the insurance claim to get your window fixed was a complete nightmare. For days on end, it felt like you were stuck on the phone on hold. The breezy jazz music the company used burned itself into your very mind, with the occasional interruptions of “all of our representatives are currently busy. Please hold until the next available representative is able to take your call” became fixtures in your nightmares. It was the background music that made you want to tear your head off, the soundtrack of a torture session. It was only after three days of the repetitive process that you finally managed to speak to someone about the damage, and then it was another battle in and of itself just to get them to agree to pay for repairs. Afterward, it was a matter of even _more_ waiting after making an appointment for someone to come out to do the work. You found yourself out in front of the store often, surveying the damage done and looking upon the ugly boarded-over window that someone had graciously decorated with crude graffiti.

All in all though, you knew it could have been far worse. Suffice to say, you’d lost a lot of sleep over the ordeal, woken from twisted replays of that night more than once. Blood on the floor, warped fangs, a bullet shattering a skull...you’d never really considered yourself a paranoid person, but apparently a tiny incident like that was more than enough to send your imagination into overdrive. Still, though, you were certain that once the front of your building no longer looked like a patchwork crackshack, you’d start to feel normal again.

Certainly, it was impossible to forget why you were able to avoid a much greater loss. Dante had been a bit scarce since the incident, and you heard from his partner Trish that he was out of town on a job. The woman was an odd one. Tall, blonde, and graciously endowed, she cut an imposing figure in her all-black leather getup, making her look strikingly like a model from some kind of hard-rock magazine or something. She was surprisingly easy to talk to, though, once you got around the initial shock of how almost ethereally beautiful she was. Since she and Lady had helped you board up the window, you found yourself wanting to pay them back somehow. But the details of _how_ seemed to elude you for a long time,and for a little while you decided to just put it out of your mind.

It was not until the two women began to pay you regular visits that you started to get an idea of some way to pay them back.

Unlike with Dante, who was fairly easy to read as far as his likes and dislikes went, you had a much harder time deciding what to make of these two. They clearly went way back, based on their light friendly bickering any time they were in the shop. The first instance of it came when they caught sight of the jewelry displays the very day after the near-robbery.

“Do you ever wonder if you could pull off something like this?” Lady had asked, pointing to a large pewter pendant affixed with reddish crystals.

That got a chuckle out of you. That particular piece had been in the case for ages, a bit too much on the heavy and “goth” side for most people.

“I thought you had better taste than that,” Trish said, looking at the gaudy pendant.

“What, you never think about accessorizing a little bit? We’ve been at this for long enough that we deserve to look our best every now and then.”

Judging by the tone of their voices, they were only giving each other a bit of hell, the sort earned from a near-lifetime of friendship. You were kind of jealous, if you were being honest.

“I wouldn’t choose something so clunky,” you spoke up. “What if you're chasing after a target and it gets caught on something? It’s a little impractical. Now, if you wanted something like a ring, it’d be both pretty _and_ functional.”

So you’d bought into the idea of them being bounty hunters a little too quickly. It was a far better explanation than anything else you could think of. Getting into any other territory was a little too weird to imagine.

“Functional?” Trish put a hand on her hip, waiting for you to elaborate.

“Mm, could clock someone pretty hard with a big enough ring. Classmate of mine in college caught her boyfriend cheating, and the rock he’d given her to try winning her over left a nice cut on his face. Deep enough to need stitches, or so I heard.”

“Well, sounds like he deserved it,” Lady said. She turned her gaze to a display of rings, as though considering the idea.

“Oh, for sure. The guy was compensating for something, that much was obvious,” you laughed sharply. “So if you don’t want a pendant, I can show you some similar stuff with the rings.”

“Who said I didn’t want it?” she countered.

“She makes a valid point though,” Trish chimed in. “In our line of work, it’s important to keep safety and practicality in mind.”

You knew, just _knew_ that she had to be joking. Given her choice of form-fitting leather and long hair, you didn’t think there was a practical detail in her attire. You bit your tongue to keep from calling her on it, but Lady had no such qualms.

“That’s real rich coming from someone who wears a leather bustier into battle.”

That made the friendly conversation turn into one of bickering,the two women nearly at each other’s throats (again though, in a way that only old friends could manage) until you managed to get your laughter under control. You stepped between them, a hand on each of their shoulders placatingly.

“Ladies, please! You’re both very lovely, and Dante is a lucky dog to have you. How about you both pick something out,and I’ll give you a discount as thanks for helping with the window?”

There. The perfect opportunity to pay them back had presented itself, and it kept them from breaking anything with their argument. Not that you’d meant to infer out loud about their relationship with Dante. Hell, you hadn’t even meant to give it a thought. It didn’t matter who he was with, and you really shouldn’t have butted into their business. Still, it was hard to ignore the fact that the seemed so close to two amazingly gorgeous women. It was hardly your fault that your brain decided to make the jump from “he must be seeing one of them” to “he must be seeing BOTH of them.” Your face morphed into a sour expression, like you’d just tongued a lemon, but you didn’t comment further.

The women, however, seemed to realize what you’d suggested a second later and nearly fell over themselves laughing. You could only blink rapidly at them.

“Ahahahahah! Ohh, you think we’re--” Lady gestured to herself, then at Trish, tears beading in her eyes. “--with him?”

“Not in a million years,” the blonde agreed, covering her cackling mouth with a hand. “That’s the funniest thing I’ve ever heard!”

“You mean neither of you are uh..shacking up with him?” the words came out on their own, and sounding more incredulous than you’d intended. You cringed at how dumb that sounded.

“I’ve known him since I was a teenager. He’s more like a brother to me,” Lady said, once she managed to rein in the giggles. “Being with him like that would be creepy.”

“We're also more like kin,” Trish agreed. “I can’t see myself with someone like him at all.”

Glancing back and forth between the two, you felt like a huge idiot. Not to mention, you’d sort of just outed yourself to the pair in regards to your attraction. Foot, meet mouth.

It didn’t help your case when you opened your mouth to speak again and what came out was:

“Why not?”

“He’s a slob.” Lady answered immediately. “Less so these days, but still kind of bad. He’s irresponsible with his money,and he never takes anything seriously.”

“Not to mention his pizza addiction. I don’t know how he manages to eat as much as he does and still keep in shape,” Trish shook her head in mild annoyance, gazing at the jewelry display and indicating a pair of earring snear the top.

Actually, she knew _exactly_ how he managed to keep in shape, thanks to his demonic heritage. But you didn’t need to know that. Obediently, you went to fetch the earrings. But a part of you rose up, tongue sharp in defense of Dante.

“He’s funny though,” you offered. “He’s always got interesting stories to tell, and his taste in coats isn’t bad.”

You almost kicked yourself for mentioning the damn coat. Always about the damn coat. Though really, wasn’t that more of a cover at this point?

“I suppose he does have his good points,” Lady conceded, picking out two rings with heavy, broad faces. “He’s strong and loyal, and he never backs down from a challenge. But i still wouldn’t go for him.”

“By all means, he’s free for the taking,” Trish said, staring pointedly at you. Her gaze felt utterly scouring, and you found yourself unable to resist flinching. You knew exactly what she was suggesting, but tempting though it may be…

“I just want to pay him back for helping me. And I..well, he seems like the kind of guy to have a bunch of secrets he doesn’t like to talk about. He’s got a nice smile, but it’s like it’s trying to cover for something? I don’t know. I shouldn’t worry about it anyway. But uh, he likes pizza you said?”

“Addiction,” Trish reiterated. “His blood must be tomato sauce at this point. You should invite him out for some.”

“I’ll send some to the shop,” you said. “Oh, it’s fifty altogether for the jewelry, by the way.”

You were ignoring the insinuation, ignoring the fact that Dante was single, and ignoring the way that the women looked at each other like they were making a silent pact. You weren’t going to go there. You weren’t going to think about his smile, or the way he wore his shirt half-tucked in, or the fact that the walk to Devil May Cry was merely twenty or so steps. No. You would send a pizza to his place once he got back from his job, and that would be it. Besides, you had a window to get fixed.

As it happened, the day that the repair company showed up was the same day that Dante got home. Catching a glimpse of the man tiredly dragging himself inside when you went to run the trash out, you immediately went to the phone with an order of a large pizza with everything. Right after hanging up, a van pulled up in front of your store, and you hopped to your feet to grab your old guitar.

It was time for a little payback for all the time you’d been given the runaround.

Dante, for his part, wasn’t aware of your prior interactions with the other women. Indeed there wasn’t much he was concerned with at all the afternoon of his return, save for his almost dire need for a shower. Sent on a mission to track down a demon living beneath an old church (as cliche as cliches got), he’d discovered the creature nesting in the winding catacombs underground. A chase of nearly three hours had left him victorious, but with an absurd amount of dirt in his hair and all down his back, mingling with sweat and making him want to crawl out of his own damn skin from how itchy he felt. It was only made worse by the prickle of stubble from his now too-long facial hair. It’d been a while since he’d been bare-faced, but now seemed the perfect time. But first, he took the scissors to his hair, managing a trim that meant his hair would hold less dirt if he had to do similar hunts later. This would make maintaining it far easier, too. By the time he finally stepped out of the bathroom about forty minutes later, he felt much more alive. He’d nicked himself a little, all the hot water was gone,and he felt a gnawing hunger in his stomach, but at least he was clean. Figuring he’d earned the rights to walk around in whatever state he pleased within his own home, the devil hunter wrapped a towel around his waist and dragged himself to the phone. Intent on placing his usual order, he didn’t even get a chance to dial the number before there was a knock on the door.

A very fresh-faced, very flustered delivery driver took one look at Dante and shoved the pizza box into his hands before stammering something and taking off like the hounds of hell were chasing them. Confused, Dante put the box down on his desk to open the lid. For all of two seconds, he was suspicious it might be some kind of prank before he noticed the writing on top of the box.

 

**_For my favorite neighbor. Thanks for the help the other day!_ **

 

That was all it took for him to trust it, pulling a slice away from the rest of the mess and catching some of the dripping, greasy cheese in his mouth. Sitting there, freshly-washed, hot pizza on his desk, and with a decent roll of cash in his coat, Dante felt pretty damned content. There was, however, one thing he could think of to make the afternoon even better. That something, or rather someone, happened to live right across the street. After finishing the first slice, Dante closed the box and dressed hastily, taking it with him as he crossed the street to your shop.

What greeted him was both unexpected and _hilarious_. Two men were working to clear out the remainder of the busted glass, doing their very best in spite of the way you were harassing them. Standing not five feet away, armed with your old guitar, you were strumming away while singing at the top of your lungs in the highest pitch you could manage. You didn’t sound bad by any stretch of the imagination, but it was clear that your intent was to annoy the workers based on your choice of song. It didn’t seem to have much effect though, prompting you to sing even louder. Something about the way you couldn’t help swaying to the song all while wearing a seriously mean scowl on your face was utterly adorable to the demon hunter, and he decided to sweep on through the door in a dramatic spin.

Setting the pizza on the counter, he snatched the guitar from your arms and flawlessly picked up where you left off, happening to be a fan of your particular song choice. Taken aback, you abruptly stopped singing until he picked up with his own rendition of the lyrics. That finally got a reaction out of the stoic repairmen, who suddenly looked a bit constipated, and you joined back in on the song.

When Dante absolutely _slew_ the guitar solo, you couldn’t fight the giggles any longer, clutching your stomach as you leaned on the counter for support. No longer able to keep it together, you could only look on with an absolutely idiotic grin as the man added in some pelvic thrusts and over-the-top falsetto to the rest of the song. By then, the workers looked ready to kill you both, so you picked up the pizza and beckoned for Dante to follow you upstairs to give the men peace with which to finish their work.

Ushering him into your living room, you flopped onto the couch and flipped on the tv, willing your giggles to subside.

“Oh my god, they’re definitely going to overcharge me for that,” you snickered.

“Can’t imagine why! You’re a woman of many talents, Sunshine.”  

“They deserve to suffer for all the hoops I had to go through to get them out here,” you said.

Well, technically, that was the fault of the insurance company, not the workers. You had the decency to feel a little guilty, reaching for the pizza to dig out a slice. Hey, you were the one who paid for it, after all.

“So, what brings you to my humble abode?”

You picked idly at the cheese, trying not to make direct eye contact with Dante as he sat himself next to you, swiping the slice right out of your hands with an impish smile. You made a face, disgruntledly going for a new one.

“I can’t say hello to my lovely neighbor after being away for so long? You wound me, m’lady.”

“Okay first,” you laughed. “Don’t ever call me that again. Second, you know I got this so I could pay you back for your help with that wannabe thug the other day right?”

You pulled at the cheese on the slice with your fingers, eventually balling up the entire layer of toppings to pop into your mouth. Dante chuckled around his own mouthful.

“That’s a creative way of eating pizza if I’ve ever seen one,” he remarked as you folded over the crust for consumption. It was strange to be in this space like this. He knew the basic layout of your apartment, had been upstairs a couple of times before thanks to you trusting him enough to wander around up there if he needed to use the restroom or anything of the sort, but he’d never been up here at the same time as you. “As for feeling like you owe me, don’t. Any sane and decent person would’ve done the same.”

“Still,” you protested. “Felt like I should do something nice.”

Such a serious tone was weird to hear out of you, Dante noted. Did you really feel the need to clear some imagined debt with him so badly?

An image suddenly assaulted him, of you straddling his lap and purring that there were ‘other’ ways you could pay him back. He banished the thought viciously, tamping down the sudden heat in his chest. Taking the situation seriously, he grabbed the folded-up crust from you before you could take another bite.

“Third time’s a charm,” you remarked, reaching for the box again. He grabbed your wrist with his unoccupied hand before you could get there, and his tone lacked any humor.

“I don’t make a habit of enslaving people to debts, especially when I can barely pay mine. What gives, sunshine?

“I…” you hesitated. “That’s how people usually are. Someone does you a favor, and they come to you later asking for something. Most people operate that way.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’m not most people, huh?”

That drew a laugh out of you, he released your hand, and you made a grab to take your crust back.

“True. You’re unlike any person I’ve ever met, that’s for sure. I guess I’m just not used to there being anyone to have my back, that’s all.”

That was certainly true. So consumed with trying to get your life together before all of this, you’d lacked the time to keep up a social life in the city. Time and distance had driven you from all of your former friends and college acquaintances, nothing left but scant memories of the glory days. So in a lot of ways, friendship was a commodity you were unused to having.

But a friend like Dante was an excellent choice, you thought. Sure, a friend who you thought about more than you should, and dreamed of every now and then, and wanted to tackle on sight, but a friend first and foremost.

“Well,” Dante spoke up, breaking you from your thoughts. “You don’t have anything to worry about. As neighbors, we should look out for one another anyway. The neighborhood’s not what it used to be.”

“That’s for sure,” you agreed, sitting back to finally relax a little.

It was then, as you watched the man get another slice of his own, that you realized he wasn’t wearing gloves. You weren't quite sure why it was so jarring. For that matter, he looked like he’d cut his hair and cleaned up a bit. It made him look younger by a huge margin, and eventually you found yourself fiddling to turn on the tv to keep yourself from staring. As if you didn’t have a hard enough time already...

Thankfully, after just a few moments of searching, you found that a cheesy western was on, about a quarter of the way through the film. Quickly, you got caught up in it, quoting the best lines as they came up and mostly forgetting about the awkwardness.

 _Mostly_.

Between the two of you, the pizza was gone in record time, though Dante did most of the consuming. But as you ate, you found yourself confronting some rather intrusive thoughts and feelings. Having initially brushed off your attraction as a passing fancy due to loneliness, you were somewhat perturbed to find that, if anything, you only liked the man more as time went on. It was as if the universe was laughing its ass off at you in showing that you both shared so many interests, in placing such a devilishly attractive man in throwing distance...and in making you feel like a muddy rock in comparison to the women he usually found in his company.

Even if he was, as Trish and Lady said, not taken, there were many reasons to hesitate. Though, perhaps those reasons were not the ones people might expect. From an outsider’s perspective, you two were damn near perfect for one another. But digging deeper, looking closer, you became all too aware of just how much distance there was between you. It was as if you both feared more than this surface friendship. At least, on your end, you feared that if he got to know you better, he’d find you rather lacking. You were, after all, a failure in every regard of life except for your store. Compared to the stories he told of his jobs (even if they were heavily edited to leave out details on the more supernatural aspects), your own life felt a bit cut-and-dry.

If only you knew of his own fears in sharing more of himself. Such fear was thanks in part to his unlucky streak with women so far, and in part due to the truth of how he lived.

If Lady or Trish had been present and had the ability to read thoughts, they both would have groaned in exasperation.

But as it was, the fear stayed both your words and his, instead forcing you to sit talking only about the movie for as long as it was on.

When the credits rolled, you were left with an urge to fill the silence somehow.

“Dante, I…” You stopped short when other words almost tumbled out, ones you’d never say. _‘I want to get to know you better.’_ “This was nice. We should do pizza and movies more often, if you want to.”

It was a way to compromise on your feelings. You didn’t want him gone from your life by any means, but there was no way you could give in to the urges that grew stronger every time you saw him. You hadn’t even known him that long…

It was a way to live on, spend time with him without having to face that fear.

“That’s a golden idea there. I’ll bring the pizza if you bring the movies,” he answered.

“What, you don’t want to have to pick?”

“I trust your judgment. Besides, if it means getting--”

A knock sounded at the door then, and you had little choice but to answer, coming face to face with the workers, now finished with your window. There was closing paperwork to do, leaving you to head back down to the store. Dante followed, taking the empty box with him to discard.

“Same time next week?” he asked, even as the workers zeroed in on you with a rant about how you’d made their job more difficult and how you should have more respect, and that your rates might just go up for your little stunt.

“Sure!” You shouted back. “Are you sure you don’t want to pick the movie though?”

“Trust me, you wouldn’t like my taste in movies.”

You gave him a thumbs-up and a brilliant grin, and Dante regretted that his own words, the ones he wanted to say most, had to go unsaid too.

_‘I want to spend more time with you.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song they were singing to the workers was totally, in my head, The Darkness' "I Believe in a Thing Called Love." Because I can all too easily picture Dante sashaying around singing along to that song.  
> Thanks for reading! See you in the next chapter!


	4. Insomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a few nights since you got any sort of rest. Investigating the cause of your insomnia drives you closer to the demon hunter who's been plaguing your thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this, a little sexual tension? >:3c  
> Content warning for a dead dog in the latter half of the chapter. I tried not to go into a lot of detail with it, but just know that there is a dead dog. If this makes you uncomfortable, please skip from where it says "the bell above the door chiming loudly in the night" to "Fear crept up in you." It's a short, single paragraph-long section. In addition, a line of dialogue has been altered as a reviewer pointed out that it had some unsavory connotations. I'm not looking to conjure discomfort with my dialogue unless it's intentional, and in this case it definitely wasn't intentional. It's minor, but I don't think changing it alters the flow of the chapter at all.

**_I couldn't sleep last night_ **

**_You were chasing the birds 'till the beast caught your eye_ **

**_I couldn't sleep last night_ **

**_How you look like an angel_ **

**_It's burnt in my mind_ **

**_\--------------------------------------------------------_ **

 

If someone had told Dante years ago that he’d still be hunting demons at nearly forty-three years of age, well...he’d probably buy it in a heartbeat. Never one to think particularly far ahead into the future, he’d preferred instead to make the most of each moment as it had been given to him. Since losing nearly everything early on in life, he’d had a pretty hedonistic youth, time wasted on cheap and fast pleasures. It was pure whim that had made him want to open a demon hunting business, and even at the time he had no long term plans for it. It was only his confrontation with his brother and his chance meeting with Lady years and years ago that had changed his perspective on things.

Fast forward to the here and now, and he would definitely say he’d earned the life he led...even daring to wish he had a bit more. No longer the crazy, reckless man of his youth, Dante still appreciated good humor and cutting loose every now and then. Saving humanity on a regular basis was all well and good, but it was the little things in life that reminded him of why he bothered in the first place.

A good meal, a good laugh, doing something ridiculous, sitting on an old worn couch with a greasy pizza and a lame sci-fi movie...all of them were exactly what he needed to keep going. Other people might have need of more; world travel and new thrills every week, but for a man who’d missed out on such simple pleasures and opportunities to build any meaningful relationships, appreciation on a smaller scale was much more his style. Taking back those missing pieces, seeing just how good life could be at his own pace was better than any prize or grand gesture could ever be.

He was not blind to the fact that he got to experience all of those things with _you_. The very day he’d met you, he’d seen how down to earth, how painfully normal you were. You weren’t a demon in disguise or a peddler of supernatural wares or a threat to his daily life. You weren’t a trick or a danger...or even aware that such things existed. You were just an ordinary person, a woman with a sharp tongue and keen humor who gave as good as she got. Delightfully, refreshingly, intoxicatingly ordinary.

The freedom to live your life the way you chose--that was what Dante fought for. He hadn’t realized he’d needed a reminder before he met you.

But it wasn’t _just_ that you reminded him what mattered, was it? No, Dante was almost jealous of how normal you got to be. He’d wanted to feel like he belonged, to be normal himself for so much of his life. Even now, if he could reasonably give up the life he was living for something simpler, he would in a heartbeat. But the constant threat of demons, ghouls, and at times the very underworld itself prevented him from any of that. So perhaps, when it came to you, he was living a little vicariously through you.

Being around you was a cool breeze in summer, a quenching drink of water, a chance to feel like he was normal too. Not a half devil, just a man enjoying life. The truth was, he was downright _greedy_ for your time.

Contrary to popular belief, Dante was not a stupid man. He wouldn't have gotten very far in his business if he lacked intuition and keen observation skills. So he was far from oblivious to how his constant visits to your store must seem to Lady and Trish. Nor was he blind to the way you looked at him. When you thought he didn’t notice, you were always peering at him from the corner of your eye, face flushed when he turned to say something to you and you made some quip to dismiss the fluster.

If your longing felt anything like his, how you must have been _aching_.

Too many days in a row now had he caught himself thinking of your smiling lips and warm body, visions of you that lulled him off to sleep only to wake from vivid and fitful dreams of your body torn to pieces by his enemies. That alone was what kept him from making a move himself, the thought of your life being endangered because of his work. He would be lying through his teeth if he said he didn’t want you, though. Years of rotten luck with women, or meeting women who later turned out to be demons trying to eat him made your presence all too alluring. Even on days that he didn’t have an excuse to stop in your shop, he’d often find himself walking by, watching you sing along to whatever song was playing on the radio. It didn’t help his case that your humor was similar to his, one of the few people he’d met that actually laughed at his bad jokes, or that you were so damned _adorable_. So he really couldn’t be blamed for the way he caught himself thinking about you during the slower hours of the day.

Trish and Lady noticed, so there wasn’t much point in trying to deny it anyway.

But he’d have to content himself with the idea of a single night with you, and that was assuming either of you crossed that line. Part of him hoped you never would, because he knew he’d never be satisfied with a single night. If he got you, he’d want to keep you. It was as simple as that. Really, what the two of you had going on already was safest. At least, that was what he told himself. Never mind that your banter had turned nearly dangerous.

The proposed pizza and movie nights became a regular thing. Every Tuesday and Friday, you’d look through your sizable movie collection and pick one out, trying to think outside of your favorites for the sake of covering a wider variety of genres. So far, you’d hosted three such nights, with Lady and Trish joining the second while Dante was away on a job. It was a little surprising to you how comfortable you felt with all of them, falling into an easy routine for everyone to look forward to. You were totally oblivious to the fact that the women were sort of spying on you in their own way, silently concocting hypothetical situations in which to get you alone with the demon hunter. Now that you were in the picture, the man was a lot easier to tolerate, and they saw the good it did to have your presence as a constant.

It was only when you got a little _too_ comfortable that things got a little awkward.

Jokingly, you’d suggested one night that beer would go perfectly with the pizza, met by a chuckle and a “nah” from Dante. Odd. You'd picked him for the kind of guy to insist on such a combination. Then again, first impressions weren't always correct. 

"What's the matter, baby? Not a fan?" you asked. "Or are you afraid I'll drink you right under the table?" 

"Nah, I'm more of a whiskey kinda guy." 

After that, the man cleared his throat and excused himself to use the restroom, and you decided to let it go.

That was the exact moment, however, that you came to a damning realization. The pet name, the tone of voice you’d used...oh god, you’d been flirting with him. Or rather, the previously joking, friendly flirting had become real. You’d called him “baby” before, shortly after meeting, but it felt different now. More real. More thrilling. Dante felt it too, had felt that jolt deep in his gut and spent a few moments softly banging his head against the wall to banish the stupid grin that calling him that had conjured. Just how long could he keep this up?

He just knew, despite his best efforts, at some point something had to give. That wouldn’t stop him from fighting the good fight though, if only to keep you out of harm’s way.

Too bad for him that life had other plans.

Something was going on in the neighborhood. For three nights in a row, you’d been woken by loud noises in the alleyway next to your shop. Ill-timed to happen just as you were drifting off to sleep, the noises startled you back from the precipice of sweet rest, rattling your nerves and making it impossible to get back to sleep. It was easy to dismiss the first occurrence as a cat or something, some stray animal messing about with the garbage cans. But after the third night, when the crashing cans were accompanied by a blood-curdling, inhuman noise, the incidents started to feel a lot less coincidental and more frightening. Perhaps it was simply the sleep deprivation… It crept its way in, wound itself about you like a heavy cloak. Your eyes felt dry and gritty, your body and head ached, and you could barely think straight. Every little noise made your head pound with pain, and you felt like you were just one clumsy mishap from serious injury. Each moment blurred into the next, words slurring in an incomprehensible mess.

You couldn’t go on like this. On the fourth day, you decided to close up shop early in an effort to get some desperately-needed rest.

Settling in, you did manage to finally drift off. But as expected, you woke not an hour later to the sound of crashing tin outside. Bolting upright in frustration, you threw on your slippers and charged down to the shop, retrieving the gun kept by the register. Had you taken a moment, you’d realize how irrational you were being, but the lack of rest had you firmly in its grasp. To take yourself outside to the alleyway and shoot whatever happened to be keeping you up seemed perfectly reasonable to you. The front door was wrenched open violently as soon as you got a hand on it, the bell above the door chiming loudly in the night.

It was a short walk to the alleyway, a mere few steps until you could confront your insomnia head-on. You were prepared to face off with a stray dog or a raccoon or something, but what you laid eyes upon threw those expectations right out the window. It _was_ a dog...and something else. There was so much _blood_ in the alleyway, pouring from the body of a poor unfortunate mutt who’d found itself in the wrong place at the wrong time. It pooled out around the dog, trickling with the downward slope of the street and seeming almost black in the faint light. Whatever had killed it was still there, breathing heavily as it wetly chewed at the dog’s corpse, form cloaked in the alley's shadows. You couldn’t make out much, but you could see that the creature was large, far too large to be any domestic animal.

Fear crept up in you, like bile up the throat. It bled into you, limbs trembling and breath shuddering. You were out of your element. In an instant, you had gone from confident to afraid, not knowing what lurked in the dark. You could have dismissed it as a nightmare, hallucinations born of sleep deprivation but...it felt far too real.

It looked up at you, the creature in the alley. It caught your scent, the reflective eyes of a predator fixed upon you. Your heart withered in your chest. Gone was that bravado, the determination to see to it that you would sleep that night. Hell, you even managed to forget you had a gun at all, fear seizing you so firmly in a vise you could hardly breathe. Your feet slowly shuffled backwards, microscopic movements charting a path out and away from the creature. You had to get back inside, lock yourself in, call animal control or something… It had to be a cougar, right? Or maybe a bear? Such sightings weren’t completely unheard of, even if they were a bit on the rare side. It would be fine. You just had to move slowly. No sudden movements.

The thing had started up a growl as soon as it noticed you, and almost as if reading your thoughts, you saw the shadow of it move forward. Reflexively, you gasped, and the creature let out a terrifying howl. Somewhere between the scream of a cougar and the yelp of a dog thrown into a blender with something metallic, the noise had you abandoning your previous plan to get back inside. Instead, you ran, your slippers flying off as you dashed away. You ran not for your own front door, but for Dante’s, instinctively seeking him out. You just prayed he’d answer. Though, it’d be next to impossible to sleep through your fists beating frantically against his door. Just in case he somehow did not hear it, you started shouting his name. Fortunately, you didn’t have to knock long, the door opening beneath your frantic fists. You glanced over your shoulder to see if the denizen of the alleyway had followed you.

“(Y/N)?”

Oh, thank god. Whipping your head around to face him, you were met with a disheveled and sleep-jostled Dante. Hair tousled, voice thick from sleep, and dressed only a pair of old sweatpants, you were treated to the sight of the devil hunter’s bare, muscular upper body. It was enough to shock you out of your hysterics, giving him a mindless once-over that, even in your state, you appreciated.

“ _Fuck_ ,” came the whisper, barely louder than a breath. You didn’t even think he’d heard you.

But the admiration of the eye candy passed in seconds, chilly terror seeping back into its place.

“I...I’m sorry to wake you…” you began.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay. What happened? You’re shaking.”

You were indeed, but didn’t realize it until he put his hands on your shoulders and guided you inside, leading you to a couch. The haunting cry of whatever was lurking next to your building was still echoing in your head, on replay like a terrible record. Now that you weren’t right next to it, your body could finally react. And what a sight you must be, trembling and frantic, running to his door barefoot in the middle of the night with a gun in your hands.

The gun…

As if remembering it, you set the firearm next to you, hands cupped over your face as you fought to get your breathing under control.

“I...I think I’m going crazy,” you said. “I couldn’t sleep...haven’t slept in days actually. Something kept fucking with my trash cans so I...god, did I imagine it? Sleep deprivation can make you hallucinate, can’t it?”

Dante had opened up a refrigerator near the couch you were seated on, grabbing out a bottle and popping the top before handing it to you. Expecting alcohol somehow, you were surprised to find that it was actually some kind of mineral water. Grateful, you gulped down a big mouthful and Dante seated himself next to you after moving your gun. A hand rested on your shoulder, and you leaned in without even really thinking about it. It was a comfort you didn’t realize you’d needed.

“Could be the case, but you seem a bit too lucid for that to be true. What’d you find?”

Taking a deep, grounding breath, you spoke.

“I went to check it out, figuring it had to be some kind of stray dog or something, right? Well, there was a dog alright, but something much bigger was chewing on it. A...a mountain lion or a bear or something… I didn’t want to stick around to find out, so I ran here. I’m sorry Dante, I...I didn’t know what to do. I had my gun, but…”

“Nah, you did the right thing, that was smart. Really, don’t worry about a thing. I’m here if you need me, you know that.”

“Still, it probably would’ve been smarter to call animal control or something,” you protested. “Going out there with a gun was stupid.”

“You said it yourself, babe. You haven’t slept. People do crazy things when they haven’t slept. As for animal control, you and I both know how that would’ve gone.”

Yeah, it would’ve meant a whole lot of nothing. Getting any member of public service to the neighborhood was always a feat. It begged the question of what would happen if someone out there ever got badly hurt. Again, probably a whole lot of nothing. Even filing a police report after the near-robbery incident had required you to go in to ensure it actually happened. So in a way, you kind of had to deal with this issue on your own.

“Would you...I don’t want to put you in danger or anything but I could pay you…” you hesitated.

“Hey, if you need me to check it out, I’ll check it out. You stay here and relax, I’ll be back before you know it.”

Dante ascended the stairs and returned fully dressed a few minutes later, his own twin guns holstered and ready. Approaching you, he plucked the coat you so envied and coveted from the back of his chair and draped it over your shoulders. Enveloped in its warmth and the rich leather scent of it, you felt even more of the tension and anxiety melt out of your frame. You were stricken by how gentle his tone had been, and by his instant belief of your claim rather than dismissing you. He could have been grumpy answering the door, or laughed you back home. He had never struck you as the tender, caring type, but here you were. He’d shown you nothing but the utmost care and worry. So wrapped up in such thoughts, you nearly missed his departure. You bid him to be safe, watching him go while giving you a reassuring smile.

It was at that moment as well, that you reassessed what had just happened. Realizing the almost intimate state of dress you’d both been in, and that he’d called you a pet name just as you’d done to him recently, you sighed. The two of you were truly hopeless, weren’t you? What was honestly holding you back at this point? Sitting there, enveloped in the warmth of his coat, you considered your long-standing reason. Because you were “mundane” and “boring” compared to him?

If that was the case, why did the two of you get along so well? Was it because of his job compared to yours? What was wrong with what you did? Why did you feel like you needed to be anything more than what you already were? Clearly you two were good friends, and both of you enjoyed the company of the other.

Really, dissecting it like that, there _wasn’t_ a good reason to hold back.

You thought for a while that you might doze off like that, thinking about where you stood with the man. But worry for him kept you wide awake, counting the minutes as they ticked by. You knew he was capable, likely out there hunting down the animal as you waited, but it didn’t stop you from feeling concerned. To keep yourself from working up into anything resembling panic, you decided to busy yourself with looking around the room you were in. Clearly serving as an office, the room featured a single large desk, a couch opposite the one you sat on, two small refrigerators, a small storage shelf and several stacked boxes, and a somewhat sad-looking potted plant or two. The walls featured aged posters, centerfold cutouts of bikini-clad models, and a few old, ornate-looking weapons. Odd...it had never occurred to you that he liked to collect such things. Then again, it was the first time you’d even set foot in the Devil May Cry, so a few surprises were to be expected. There was a framed picture on his paperwork-littered desk, along with an empty pizza box. Lady did say he was a bit of a slob, but it seemed pretty typical to you. At least the floor was clean, and it looked like there’d been a recent effort to tidy things up.

All in all, it was very...Dante. A little dirty, a little obnoxious in a way, a little bit more refined in other spots, and very comfortable to be around. Indeed, you felt incredibly safe there on that couch, warm and comfortable enough that by the time the man returned, you really had started to doze off. Your groggy state was enough to nearly miss the worried look he gave you when he walked through the door.

You’d never know what he found in that alleyway, the large slavering demon that he’d chased after immediately. Nor would you see how relentlessly he followed it, or how coldly and ruthlessly he’d disposed of it. He’d gained a laceration on his forearm in the process, but it meant nothing to him.

You knew only that, whatever he’d found was enough to get him to pull you up into a tight embrace, his heartbeat thundering against you. It was enough to have him stroking the hair out of your face to get a good look at you, so close his breath mingled with yours. It was enough to make you think, just for a moment, that he’d kiss you. You blinked, completely enchanted.

“Well, you don’t have anything to worry about anymore,” he said, breaking the spell. “That ol’ cat ain’t coming back.”

You weren’t worried. In fact, you couldn’t think of a time that you’d ever felt safer. Your basest urges screamed at you to go for it, to stand tall and kiss him stupid. But the logic won over in the end, even as clouded as your mind was from the scare and worry and lack of sleep and sudden enamored feeling. Only it wasn’t so sudden at all, was it? No, you’d felt like this for a long, long time. Funny how everything became so much clearer in a moment of minor crisis. At any rate, you did not give in to those impulses. Logic dictated that his embrace was merely that of a concerned friend. You breathed out, slowly.

“Are you sure? It’s not gonna come back and like...crash through my window?”

“No. trust me, I put him down for good.”

He let you go then, giving you space while keeping his hands on your shoulders. You couldn't hide the disappointment on your face.

“It’s um...dead then?” you asked, and it was then that the smell of blood assaulted your nostrils. Concerned, you drew back to look him over, easily spotting the gash on his arm. The coat fell from your shoulders as you seized the injured appendage.

“You’re hurt! We should take care of this so it doesn’t--”

He carefully pulled his arm from your grasp, turning you by the shoulders to sit back down.

“It’s fine, just a scratch. I’ll deal with it in a minute. But before that, let’s get you settled in.”

Confusion set in. while you were fully prepared to go home and dreaded doing so, his words had you muddled. Settled in? It must’ve shown on your face, because Dante offered you a half-smile.

“You didn’t think I’d make you go home as shaken up as you are, did you? You’re free to crash here for the night if you want. If you’d rather sleep in your own bed, though, I’ll walk you home.”

“No…” you said, perhaps a little too quickly. “I...you’re right, I’m still a little spooked. I don’t think I could sleep there tonight if you hit me with a baseball bat.”

“Yeah, I get that.” Dante turned, making an effort to conceal his injured arm from your view. Already it was mending, flesh knitting itself back together without so much as a scar to show for it. Even if you were sleep-deprived, he didn’t think he could reasonably explain that away. Making his way to the stairs, Dante paused for just a moment, turmoil roiling in his gut.

“You’re sure I’m not imposing?” You called out.

“Nah, don’t even worry about it.”

He knew he shouldn’t have embraced you the way he did. Seeing the threat that was lurking in that alleyway, knowing how close you’d gotten to it, and seeing how large the demon was had him stricken with worry. Even after splattering it on the walls of some abandoned building down the way and watching it explode into dust, he’d felt unnaturally angry, uneasy. The only other order of business was in getting back to you, making sure you were safe and that the demon hadn’t had the chance to summon any of its nasty little friends to go after you. The relief of seeing you exactly how he’d left you was overwhelming, and he’d simply been unable to resist pulling you close. The mistake had been in holding you a little too tight, a little too long, sweeping your hair out of your face and nearly giving in to the urges that had plagued him since day one.

The mistake had been that he realized he wouldn't be able to fight it after all.

He didn't want to. Years and years of loneliness, fighting for the sake of others and getting little reward for his troubles was finally getting to him. A little nagging voice deep down wondered at that, insisted that he deserved something good too. Being selfish wasn’t always a bad thing. Indeed it was selfishness that had him inviting you to stay, hoping you’d agree so that he could keep you close a little longer. You’d gotten into his very blood, and you didn’t even realize it.

Dante would be the one to lose sleep that night, trying to figure out the best way to tell you the truth about himself and battling internally against the desire to join you on the little couch downstairs. Your sleep, on the other hand, was the sleep of children, rest greeting you warmly like an old friend in a way it had not in months.


	5. A Little Something Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Refreshed and resolved, you begin to make plans to tell the devil hunter how you really feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! It's been a while since I last updated, but life got really crazy on me again with overtime. To make up for the wait, I have a double-whammy coming up! A second chapter of this story will be following this one's towards the middle of the week. Thank you all so much for your support throughout this story, and I hope you enjoy!

Waking within the walls of Devil May Cry was a surreal experience. No to say that the couch where you’d taken your slumber was uncomfortable, but waking in an unfamiliar place always had what you liked to refer to as a “hangover” effect. Disoriented, a little bit alarmed, and with half-shrouded memories of the night before, you definitely felt that effect now. It almost felt like being back in college, recovering from an all-night bender after playing a set at some seedy bar with your bandmates. It seemed like you were always waking up on some dingy couch back then, little recollection of happenings from the night before. You couldn’t help but grin a little bit at the thought. You’d been pretty wild back then, not a care in the world. 

Dante’s couch wasn’t very dingy though. The rest you’d gotten had you feeling like a fresh new person, energized and refreshed to your very soul. And, as wakefulness spread slowly into your frame, you remembered fully what had transpired last night, or rather, what  _ could  _ have. Sitting there, huddled up in a blanket that you realized smelled like the object of your desires, you reached a decision. It should have shaken you to your core, but instead you felt an almost peaceful tranquility about it, like you’d reached enlightenment. Either way, the decision was made. 

Come hell or high water, you were going to tell the man how you felt. 

Of course, there were logistics to work out; where, when, and how to tell him. But while you sat pondering such things, the smell of cooking bacon made its way to your nostrils, a siren’s call to just about anyone (as long as they enjoyed bacon, of course). It had you on your feet rather quickly, folding up the blanket to lay neatly on the couch while you sought the source of the decadent aroma. 

Gradually, your steps led you upstairs, the sweet perfume of food growing more and more concentrated as you made your ascent. The layout of this place was strikingly similar to yours, which you supposed made sense. Most of the buildings in the area had been constructed around the same time. A living room area, a short hall, two doors for the restroom and bedroom, and a kitchen; navigating the area was simple. Of course, a part of you wondered if you should even be up here, but it was Dante you were talking about. Unless by some odd twist of fate he suddenly hated you, you doubted he’d mind much. He’d been in your place many times, so why would he not welcome you in his? 

Making sure your footfalls were loud enough to not end up surprising the man, you made your way to the kitchen, peering around the corner cautiously. There he stood, back to you, handling bacon with a fork (which had you cringing ever so slightly. The poor pan coating!) and trying to flip an egg with the other hand. The egg must have been sticking, because he was really struggling. Snorting out loud, you stepped into the kitchen right as he turned to greet you. He’d gotten the egg on the spatula and now held it aloft, the slippery mass quivering, hanging dangerously off the edge. You smiled back at him in response to his brilliant grin, but the smile faltered as the egg slipped and toppled tragically to the tile floor. 

There was a small square table shoved into the corner, covered in all manners of objects including a slightly used roll of paper towels. You snatched it up, unrolled a few, and retrieved the fallen egg to toss into the garbage can, its final resting place. You smiled even brighter than before, eyebrows shooting up, teasing Dante for the mishap without a single word. 

“Morning…” your eyes caught the clock over the stove and you frowned. “...err...afternoon, I guess.” 

The clock read 2:00 p.m. Had you really slept that long? 

“And good morning to you too, Sunshine.” He followed your gaze and snickered. “It  _ is  _ morning. That thing’s been busted for a while now. How’d you sleep?” 

“Like a rock,” you replied, breath coming out in a sigh of relief. “...thank you for that.” 

“No problem at all, babe.” 

There it was again, that little nickname. Did he have any idea what it did to you? No, probably not, just as you had no idea what seeing you in your pajamas in his kitchen was doing to  _ him _ . Fate practically cackled at you both. 

“You hungry?” Dante asked. 

“Ah, that’s alright. It’s not that I don't trust your culinary skills or anything, but I should probably get home. I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on. Maybe some other time?” 

Dante gave a nod, shrugging with one shoulder to return to tending the sizzling bacon. An idea suddenly occurred to you, and, following through with your decided intent, you spoke again. 

“Friday...if you aren’t busy we should uh...hit Bullseye. Get a couple of drinks, play a few rounds of pool...what do you think?” 

It wasn’t a  _ date  _ exactly, but it was a start. Besides, you were dying to get out for once, feeling a little suffocated by the day to day grind. 

“You mean you’re eager to  _ lose  _ a couple of rounds of pool,” Came his answer. 

“You think so? I think you’re scared I’ll show you up so badly you’ll have to change your name just to avoid ridicule,” you countered, grinning.”So are you in or not?” 

“I’m in. Next job’s not for another week, so prepare to lose.” 

“The only thing about to be lost is your bacon if you don’t pay attention,” You pointed out, the acrid smell of burning meat making you crinkle your nose. 

Dante returned to his breakfast and you bid him farewell, making your way back downstairs where you unknowingly passed by a half-shadowed Lady. Her eyes widened at the sight of you, hair mussed from sleep, barefoot, dressed in tiny shorts and an oversized t-shirt used as pajamas…

Well, it didn’t take a genius to know where her mind went. Funny, she’d stopped by to follow up on an earlier lead, the cult business from a while back. She hadn’t been expecting to see you leaving Dante’s home, and it was extremely distracting. Had the idiot finally made a move? 

Walking upstairs into the hall, then to the kitchen, what Lady found did nothing to dissuade her from thinking the two of you had finally hooked up. 

Dante was whistling a merry little tune while he finished preparing his breakfast, looking just as sleep-rumpled as you had. Then he paused, muttered something to himself, and shook his head. 

“So,” Lady said, stepping into the space. Her boots fell heavily. “[Y/N] stayed the night, huh?” 

Dante whipped around, spatula in hand. Another egg met its demise on the floor. 

“What the hell? Doesn’t anyone knock anymore?” He stooped down to pick up the fallen egg with his bare hands, throwing it into the garbage. 

“...you could start actually locking your door?” 

“Touche.” 

“Anyway,” Lady said insistently. “What’s up with that?” 

Dante no longer had the energy for denial, and he just wanted to eat his damn breakfast at this point. He sighed, turning off the burner. He’d have to settle for plain toast and bacon, it seemed. 

“Yeah, she stayed the night. It’s not what you’re thinking, though.” 

Lady looked from Dante to the door where you’d left earlier, then back again. 

“You’re really still going to deny that after all this time, you still don’t…” 

“Don’t get me wrong,” Dante sighed, running his hands through his hair. “I’m not deflecting. She was scared. Last night she came running in here like something was chasing her. Turned out she had a nasty little demon problem lurking right next to her place.” 

Lady sucked in a gasp of surprise, staring at the man with searching eyes. Dante looked angry at himself, angry and ashamed that he hadn’t known until it was almost too late. Between Dante and his brother, he’d always been the one closer to humans, more compassionate, more sympathetic to them, more eager to protect them. A failure to do so was always something he took to his heart. 

“You wanted to make sure she was safe,” Lady said. 

“She was so damn  _ scared _ , and she came to me for help. I didn’t want her to have to go home after something like that, to have to be by herself.” 

Lady sighed, understanding him well. 

“Do you think there’s a chance it could happen again?”

More demons, more threats, more of the woman across the street being endangered with no idea of why…

“...there’s always a possibility,” Dante answered. “That’s why I’m gonna sit her down and tell her about it...about all of this.” 

“Are you now?” Lady didn’t quite buy it, arms crossed over her chest. “You going to tell her about yourself, too?” 

Met with silence, Lady could only furrow her brows at the man. 

“Come on, Dante! You’ve got to trust someone with the truth at some point! Why not tell  _ her _ ?” 

“Do you honestly think--” Dante began, hands out in front of him like he was directing traffic. “She’d think I’m a freak.” 

“You are,” Lady answered, not an ounce of sympathy in her voice. The walking arsenal stepped firmly in his path, ensuring he could not flee. “But has it ever occurred to you that she might be okay with that?” 

Dante, who was in the midst of trying to step around Lady, only to be blocked at every turn, froze. No, honestly, the idea never  _ had  _ occurred to him. He was basing his assumption on patterns he’d observed in the past, and maybe there was something in him that felt like he needed to suffer. A part that told him he’d never be fully accepted by anyone, no matter how much he gave up for humanity. 

It was pretty depressing to think about, honestly. 

But if you  _ did  _ take the news well...and there was always a chance that you wouldn’t, but if you did accept his truth and still wanted to be close… If there was even a sliver of a chance for him…

“And in case you haven’t noticed somehow,” Lady pointed out. “She’s kind of into freaky things.” 

That was all it took to get Dante to laugh out loud, startled by the unintentionally hilarious reminder. How could he possibly have forgotten? Even if you hadn’t been aware of it, he’d started off selling things like demon metal scraps and red orbs of all things to you. You’d taken each one with glee, cooing over its unique shape and color before forking over cash. Cash which, at the time, had helped him finally break even on his debts. You still wore that unusual, bismuth-esque eye as a pendant. 

Okay, so if he thought about it that way, about how he’d likely still be sitting on a mile-high stack of bills and sitting in a dark office with no incoming calls because the power was cut...if he thought about that, he honestly owed you an explanation. And a date. Something way nicer than Bullseye. No that he was complaining about that. Speaking of…

“Friday,” he spoke. “She invited me out. I’ll tell her everything then.” 

“Good choice.” Lady finally stepped out of the way to allow him to pass by with his breakfast. “You’ve really got it bad for her, huh?” 

She had meant it teasingly, a bit of lighthearted joking, but the look on his face had her blinking in surprise. 

“Yeah. I really kinda do.” 

She hadn’t heard Dante use such a vulnerable, wistful tone, not since the day he’d laid Vergil to rest as “Nelo Angelo.” But as quickly as it had come, it was gone, and Dante coaxed the television to life with the slam of a fist. His feet propped up on the table as he bit into his toast, spraying crumbs all over the couch. Lady snickered. Some things never changed. 

“So what’d you actually come over to talk about in the first place?” 

Ah, right. The old cult stuff. 

“Remember that dead-end cult crap from a couple of months ago? Well, I have a new lead. Wanna hear it?” 

\-------------------------------------------------

Almost on instinct, you checked the alleyway next to your shop before going inside. The space looked odd in the harsh daylight, almost as stark as a bleached bone. But it was comforting to know that denizen of the dark was long gone, no longer waiting for the right moment to jolt you from slumber. With a good night’s sleep as your shield, you moved your garbage cans back to their usual spot, spared a longing glance at the Devil May Cry, and went inside the pawn shop to head upstairs for a much needed shower. You hadn’t been lying when you said you had  a lot of work to do, and had plans to get going as soon as you were actually dressed for the day. You figured you’d earned at least a moment or two of quiet pining though. 

How close you had been, how  _ nice  _ that had felt, how nearly desperate you were to blurt out your feelings...was it too cheesy and cliche to say it made you feel like singing? 

Well, it wasn’t as though anyone was around to hear you, so you did just that, crooning at the top of your lungs during your shower. You kept singing while dressing and getting ready, belting out cheesy tunes from the 90’s all the way to the bottom of the stairs where the sudden appearance of Trish startled you into silence. 

“Howwww did you get in here?” you turned beet red, staring at the woman, who had a catlike grin of amusement. 

“The door was unlocked, so I walked in.” 

You cursed out loud. That was a bad, bad habit you needed to break. 

“Did I come at a bad time?” Trish smirked. 

You decided then and there that Trish was a devil, ironically having no idea at that moment of how very accurate you were. You let out a huff of breath, clearing your throat. 

“Of course not. Don’t mind me. How can I help you?” 

‘ _ Deflect, deflect, deflect! _ ’ your mind screamed. 

Her expression didn’t falter, and you really sort of envied her ability to be so effortlessly teasing without seeming like a bitch about tit. That took true talent. The blonde eyed the display of guns you kept hung up behind the counter. You didn’t quite like the look of bored dismissal she cast upon the weapons, because then her cool blue gaze settled on you instead. Her perfectly-shaped mouth seemed to lift even higher. 

“A little birdie told me you have a certain special supply in the back. A certain...off-limits selection.” 

“What are you, some undercover cop?” you blurted out. “Was the bounty hunter story just some cover? Did Lady tip you off?” 

Trish was caught off guard by your earnest incredulity, barking out a shocked laugh. 

“No, maybe, and yes. You see, we’ve got a very dangerous case coming up, something that may require a bit of extra firepower. Lady remembered talking to you about the storage boxes you keep upstairs.” 

Damnit, you remembered that conversation. It was the second movie night, and near an entire 2-liter bottle had spilled on the carpet, so you’d gone into the storage closet for some ancient towels you kept around specifically for random messes. The boxes of gun parts and ammunition were in the way, and it had been Lady to help you move them. Of course, the woman was curious, so you told her about how they’d come to be in your possession. Once more, you cursed those who wouldn’t take no for an answer when it came to declining their illegal property. 

“You know I can’t sell you those, right?” you said. 

“Mm, I’m aware. I’m not interested in buying them,” Trish answered. “I was more hoping I could borrow them.” 

“I can’t do that either!” you protested, waving your hands in dismissal. “In fact, that’s worse and you know it! They’re there for a reason.” 

“Oh, come now. What if I said ‘please’ very nicely?” 

She’d reached out, cupping your chin in her hand while she practically purred out her words. It managed to feel much more patronizing than it did seductive, which is what you guessed she was going for. You brushed her hands away. 

“I definitely can’t sell  _ or  _ lend you illegal, definitely dangerous firearms, parts, or ammunition. And you know this. Why are you even asking?” 

“Come now, we’re friends, aren’t we? Friends help each other out when they’re in need.” 

“Sorry, can’t.” You were insistent, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“Hm,” Trish hummed, taking a single step back to scrutinize you. 

You found it unnerving, compelled to try stepping away. But you were already behind the counters, no space behind you to retreat to. If you moved any more, you’d be backed against a wall. Why was she looking at you like that? What was up with the glint in her eye? 

“It would be an awful shame if say, something broke your window again, or if a certain little guitar went missing. I know how expensive a Gibson is…” 

“Goddamnit, are you… are you threatening me?” You narrowed your eyes, standing your ground. 

“It was worth a try,” Trish chuckled, clearly not serious. “Better than blackmailing you now, isn’t it?” 

“Oh, please,” you shrugged dismissively. “My conscience is clean. What could you possibly have on me?” 

If possible, her smirk spread wider, making her resemble a cheshire cat. Dread pooled in your gut. 

“No? Then you don’t mind if I tell Dante that you secretly enjoy 90’s bubblegum pop songs?”

You gasped in horror. It was only slightly exaggerated. 

“You evil bitch,” you spat. There was no true malice in your words...Okay maybe there was a little. Just a tiny touch. Fortunately, Trish just laughed. 

“You’ve no idea,” she purred. “So, do we have a deal?” 

“...fine, but if you shoot an eye out because of some crazy modified parts, don’t come crying to me. And I have one condition.” 

“I’m listening.” Trish examined her fingernails. 

“Friday, you don’t come anywhere near this store, and you stay away from Devil May Cry. Can you do that for me?” 

Trish looked like the cat who’d gotten the cream. 

“Why, what ever could be happening Friday?” she asked. There was no point in being dishonest or coy. She’d see right through you. Belligerently, you realized this was the same kind of friendly-insulting banter Trish and Lady had. You’d feel touched if you weren’t so annoyed. 

“Some drinks and a few games of pool with Dante at Bullseye,” you answered hastily. 

“Mm, shots and shots, is it?” The blonde smiled at her own pun. “Well, then I hope you enjoy your night out. God knows you could use one, both of you.” 

No snark? No smarmy remark or teasing words? You were even more suspicious, but chose not to comment. Instead, you fetched the box of guns, parts, and ammunition from upstairs, and honestly felt a little relieved to be rid of it. Though you knew nothing of the fate the weapons would have, you were relatively confident that the huntress wouldn’t do anything too insane with them. You handed them off and ushered Trish out the door, grumbling to yourself all the while. 

Friday couldn’t come soon enough. 

Indeed, when the day finally did arrive, your working hours seemed to drag by. Cursing the anxious excitement that caused you to lament each passing minute, it was a relief when you could finally close up shop and get ready for the evening. With each passing moment, however, you felt more and more ridiculous, for you spent an inordinate amount of time picking your outfit. It was a bar, for Christ’s sake! And you weren’t a damn teenager anymore either, had not been a teenager in a long time. Why were you acting like this? 

Angrily, you decided on something casual. It wouldn't do to end up looking like a try-hard. This time, you made absolutely sure that the pawn shop’s door was locked before crossing the street to Devil May Cry. given the circumstances of the last time, you were glad your knocks had no urgency this time. 

Dante opened the door with a smile you couldn’t help but return...at least until you saw Trish and lady standing behind him, exchanging knowing glances. 

“Well if it isn’t the lady of the hour! Let’s get this show on the road!” 

You felt betrayal well up in you, anger and annoyance and protests of ‘I thought we were friends!’ ringing in your head. Didn’t Trish promise to stay away? Then again, you could practically hear her taunting you with _ “I promised I’d stay away from Devil May Cry and the pawn shop. I didn’t say a word about staying away from Bullseye.”  _

Resigned to your fate, you could only smile, hold your breath, and hope the two conniving women didn’t do anything  _ too  _ terrible. 


	6. Some Truths Are Best Shouted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth comes out... in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey! Sorry about the delay on this chapter. I was going to post this Wednesday but there was a power surge while I was writing and I ended up losing everything so let's just say I'll probably be using Google docs from now on...  
> Regardless, it's here! This chapter was one of my favorite ones to write so far strictly because of how indulgent it gets towards the end.  
> Let's be real though, this entire fic is my favorite to write. It's cheesy and a little cliche, feel-good and self indulgent but I really love it.

Doing your best to hold onto the promise of the evening, you grit your teeth and forced a smile. It would take absolutely everything you had to ignore the two women, but ignore them you would. It was not jealousy that fueled your annoyance. Hell, on any other night, you’d welcome the presence of the two who you’d come to regard as friends (at least to a degree). But you had a feeling they weren’t merely tagging along to hang out. There was a nagging sensation at the back of your mind that they were plotting something. Their behavior was suspicious...lingering at the back as the four of you walked to the bar, whispering to one another. You’d call them on it if it wouldn’t mean potentially souring the evening before it really began. So you sucked it up, walked on, and employed operation: ignore them. 

So far it had worked pretty well. Besides, with Dante’s presence, it was easy to pay the women little heed. Who could possibly care about potential conspirators when you had a devilishly handsome man cracking jokes beside you? 

He slung an arm over your shoulders as you walked, to your surprise. Your natural inclination was to lean into it, grinning wildly. 

“So, you looking forward to losing?”

You rolled your eyes, shrugging off his arm and giving him a light, playful shove. 

“I already told you I’d be leaving you in the dust. Why don’t we add to the stakes while we’re at it? The loser has to pay everyone’s tab at the end of the night.” 

Your bravado was a ruse, a distraction from how flustered you felt already. However, it presented the perfect opportunity for a bit of warning to the pair of meddlesome tagalongs. You turned sharply, easily keeping pace walking backwards for a few seconds. 

“Ought to join us,” you said to Trish and Lady. “Make things a little more interesting.” 

The two exchanged a look, likely amused at your plight, but both shrugged after a moment. 

“Sure,” Lady said. “But why don’t we make things even _more_ interesting?”

“...interesting how?” You could smell an evil plot brewing. 

“We play in teams,” Trish answered. “Lady and I against you and Dante. As you said, losers pay the tab.” 

“Ha!” You turned back around to pose the idea to the man himself (as well as to avoid smacking into any errant poles, hydrants, or empty newspaper holders). 

“How about that, huh? Setting themselves up for failure, aren’t they?” You grinned. 

“Damn right they are. Hope they’ve got enough to cover everything,” Dante laughed. 

You were willing to overlook their presence in this one case, because you weren’t simply all talk. It may have been a little while since you’d last played, but billiards had once been a common pastime of yours. A loss was rare, and in light of the fact that you still didn’t trust the pair, you didn’t plan on giving up your winning streak. Wary as you were, however, you wondered if they would try to add on any sort of penalty for subsequent lost rounds. It was going to be easy enough to carry the game on your own if need be, but dante exuded a sort of confidence that said he was no slouch at billiards either. It would become clear soon enough though, as the walk to Bullseye was a short one. Arriving early enough to beat the rest of the evening crowd, the four of you laid claim to the leftmost billiards table, teams facing off against one another. Drinks were ordered immediately, fulfilling the age-old tradition of minor intoxication and competition. Not that you planned to drink much. No, in order to rack up as much of a tab as possible for the losing team (hopefully not yours), you turned to ordering bar food; sandwiches, nachos, fries...you had no way of eating them all, but they piled up on price rather quickly. A part of you screeched at how much money and food you’d be wasting, but your idea turned out to be a good one, and much of the food was eaten before any of you even finished assembling your pool cues. 

“So, how are we going to do this?” you asked with a mouthful of fries. 

“We’ll do a normal game, one on one,and then switch team members for another round. The team with the best cumulative score wins,” Lady answered. 

“Sounds good to me. You um...mind if I do a practice break first?”

“Go right ahead,” she answered, clearing the way for you to do was you needed to do. 

You racked up the balls, got into position, lined up your shot, and then immediately got distracted by the sight of a woman with bright, badly-dyed red hair practically hanging off of Dante. Her hands were more or less fondling his bicep while he sat drinking, waiting for the game to start. She was smiling, apparently telling some kind of joke. Whatever it was had enough humor to have Dante chuckling in response, and you felt an odd twist in your gut. Fear, disgust, jealousy, possessiveness...it was all too easy to identify the boiling pot of emotions.You tried to shake it off.  

“Who the hell is that?” you inquired of Lady. 

She looked up, having been focused on watching you line up your shot. Her expression was hard to read. 

“Dante did a job for her a while back, and she never really got to thank him after. Hadn’t seen her in a good long while, honestly.” 

Your mouth opened as thought to make a snide comment, but you stopped yourself. A former client, Lady had said. There was no need to worry. Besides, you didn’t have any kind of claim to his heart, and again you weren’t a damn _teenager_. He could talk to whoever he wanted. It didn’t matter anyway, as the woman didn’t linger long, out the door as soon as a man appearing to be her date arrived to fetch her. This left you feeling no small amount of relief, and you realigned your shot to make the break. This time, the distraction came in the form of catching Dante’s eye for a brief moment. 

His eyes were as blue as the cloudless sky of a summer day. Intense, beautiful. You missed the cue ball entirely, harsh scrape of stick on felt breaking the spell. You cursed, both for the missed shot and for your own fluttering heartbeat. You really were smitten,and every moment that you kept it to yourself was a greater agony. You re-chalked the stick to line up and try again, but before you could get properly positioned, a warm hand on your wrist made you pause. 

There was Dante, having approached while you were busy cursing. One hand rested on the pool table while the other slid from your wrist to your elbow, gripping lightly. You swallowed hard, turning your head to see what he was doing. 

“What ever happened to showing me up? Those two are gonna roll us at this point,” he teased. His hands moved, the one on your elbow moving to your forearm and the other gripping your opposing arm close to your waist. His chest was firm against your back, his hot breath fanning over your ear as he helped you realign your shot. 

You were a confident player usually, having won many matches, many bets in your day. The sudden flubs and struggles were by no means intentional, but you were torn between feeling like an idiot and feeling grateful since it meant Dante’s warm weight was now pressed against you. Utterly flustered, you could only nod dumbly when he guided your arms through the shot. He let go immediately after, but his presence lingered behind you. You could practically feel his grin. 

“You gotta get your head in the game.” 

For all his words and the nonchalant farce, Dante was just as content to stay right where he was as you were to keep him there. He’d moved practically on impulse, and now that his body towered behind yours, practically enveloping you, he didn’t feel particularly inclined to move unless you indicated you wanted him to. It felt perfect having you tucked away where you were, slotted against him like a puzzle piece. You had always been short, but it was truly noticeable now. The devil hunter couldn’t help but wonder, if he turned you around, what expression you’d have right then and there. It was impossible to miss the way your breathing quickened, or the race of your pulse as he guided you through the motions of the breaking shot. Your reactions were all too clear to his keen senses,and denying them was absolutely out of the question. 

Something had undeniably changed between the two of you that night at the Devil May Cry. To say otherwise would be an affront to sanity itself. 

You turned around, smirk on your face to retort with something clever, but again your eyes met. This time, you were not the only one trapped by the pull. Hairs standing up on the back of your neck, you sucked in a soft little gasp. God, could he feel this tension too? You’d completely forgotten where you were or what you were doing, all activity beyond this little bubble a din of blurred chatter and noise. Both of you remained that way, silent, breathless, until Lady accidentally bumped your elbow, arriving with a pitcher of beer. 

“Sorry,” she said, though she didn’t honestly sound sorry at all.She sounded coy, knowing. “Am I interrupting something?” 

She had such a brilliant, innocent (fake) smile on her face that you could almost forgive her for ruining the moment. Almost. 

“Come on, let’s get started!” she chirped. 

Groaning, you turned back to the table and picked up the cue, waiting for the two women to settle in before the game began. Dante put his hand on your shoulder, giving it a squeeze. Curious, you tilted your head back to look up at him. He wore an apologetic smile. 

“Hey...We need to have a talk later, alright?”

You nodded, stomach knotting up. There went your appetite for the evening. Anxiety was usually something rare for you, an unknown stranger and not a familiar friend. But how could you not feel it so strongly, given the words and context? Indeed, was there a person alive who could keep their composure after hearing such words? 

You did your best though, tried to focus on the match and enjoy yourself. But the words hung like a heavy omen over your head. Eventually, as you began to lose worse and worse, you excused yourself to step outside for some air. Trish and Lady exchanged a worried look as you left behind a stack of bills--fulfilling the bet of the losers paying the tab. Dante followed your departure with his eyes, and it wasn’t long before he stood up to go after you. 

For your part, you’d fully expected Dante to follow after you, but you thought you’d at least have a few minutes to collect yourself. Not so, it seemed. Arriving just as you took up a restless pacing, Dante approached you cautiously. So lost in dreaded thoughts of what he wanted to talk to you about (was he going to tell you that he was secretly married, or a wanted criminal, or that some horrific thing was happening?), you barely noticed him until he loosely looped an arm over your lower back. It made you jump, startled, but it also got you to stop pacing. 

“Oh, um...hey there. You...needed to talk to me?”

Other thoughts occurred to you, that you truly were inferior as you feared and that he would tell you something that would be painful to hear. But a voice deeper within willed you to calm down, to listen to what he had to say instead of being irrational. Your thoughts showed on your face, for the man adopted an even, calm tone. 

“Walk with me?” he asked, and you immediately complied. 

It became apparent rather quickly that Dante had no destination in mind, keeping his arm looped over your lower back and eventually moving to drape it over your shoulders. Neither of you spoke for a bit, concentrating on the aimless wandering and taking in the sight of the night sky, countless shimmering diamonds on an inky gown. When Dante finally did speak, he sounded almost reverent, nostalgia coloring his tone. 

“Don’t think I’ve ever just walked like this for no reason, not since I was a boy,” he said. 

The night air held a chill, but with the heat radiating from his side, you hardly noticed. Eventually, your anxiety began to die away too. There was just something about the man, you supposed. 

“It’s nice,” you answered, pleased that your voice was steady and did not waver. “Like a thousand little fireflies dancing in the sky.”   
“Heh, never thought of it that way. Guess having someone else with you offers a different perspective…” 

He trailed off with a sigh, and the dread started to creep back in. You’d stopped in front of a little museum by then, the building darkened and illuminated only by the outdoor security light. Dante’s arm slipped from around your shoulders as he stepped in front of you, facing you. 

“I uh...I’ve got to be real with you. About something important. It might sound like nonsense at first but I need you to just listen, alright?” he spoke. 

Numbly, you could only nod. Well, here it was, the condemnation you dreaded most. All of that pining, all of the time spent together...what had it been for? 

Not to say you wouldn’t accept mere friendship, of course not. Didn’t stop it from hurting, though. 

“This is something big. Something I've never really told anyone by choice. But I like you too much, respect you too much to leave you in the dark.” 

Dante felt as anxious as you did, though he didn’t show it. By God, you were going to think he was a crazy person! Taking a fortifying breath, he spoke once more. 

“Well, here goes. So uh...that story we let you believe, about us being bounty hunters? That’s only about half true.” 

You just nodded, keeping your eyes on him. Shit, had you been right? Was he a criminal on the run? What were you supposed to think? Hell, what were you supposed to _do?_

“It’s not people we track down,” he continued. “It’s _things_ , monsters in the dark. Things like the nightmare you had living in your alley.” 

“You told me it was a cougar,” came your answer, incredulous. “So...what, you expect me to just believe that it wasn’t a cat but some kind of fictional beast?”

By this point, you were shaking your head a little, trying to ignore the chill down your spine that had nothing to do with the night air. You remembered that night all too clearly, how the fear had sunk into your very bones, a primal instinct telling you to run. Deep down you’d had a feeling it was nothing you’d ever seen before, its cry still haunting you days later. Dismissal had been easy in your sleep-addled stated, but now...you weren’t so sure. 

Unless Dante was making up an elaborate means to repel you, which you doubted, why would he be saying any of this? 

“...I know it all sounds like bullshit, but I can...prove it.” 

“What?” you blurted out. “You’re insinuating that shit like the loch ness monster and like...gremlins and demons exist. How the hell are you going to prove that?”

Skepticism. It wasn’t outright rejection, so he could work with that. Honestly, he’d expected you to laugh at him. Still a bit stumped as to how to proceed, and dreading your ultimate verdict on what he was telling you, what he was about to show you, Dante stepped away from you, trying to ignore the look of hurt in your eyes. 

“What are you really trying to tell me, Dante?” you sighed. “It’s been the longest week of my life and I...Look. I can't do this anymore. I really like you, but if you’d rather me keep my distance from you, just tell me, okay? I’m a grown-ass woman, i can handle it.” 

“That’s not...even remotely it.” 

Dante sounded almost insulted that you’d assume that to be the case. He stepped close to you once more, grasping your chin lightly in his hand, forcing you to tilt your head up to look at him. 

“Just watch. I promise it’ll all make sense in a second.” 

“...fine.” Your heart thundered defiantly in your chest, insistent in the face of this “nonsense.” Somehow, you had a feeling you knew what was about to happen. 

Dante stared at you with the most pained expression you’d ever seen on his face. He dreaded what he was about to do. He usually did this only in a crisis, and it typically happened in an instant, but…

WIth you, he knew he needed to take his time. He had to let it really sink in that it was reality. 

He pulled his shirt off, and while part of you whooped with joy at the sight of his well-muscled chest, the greater, saner part thought he’d lost his mind. But all of that paled in comparison to the sheer horror, shock, and disbelief you felt when you saw his skin spark and crackle, tiny fractures appearing along the surface of his body like broken stone. The spaces between glowed brightly, almost like magma. The speed of the transformation shifted, cracks spreading along the rest of his torso and arms before re-assembling into chitinous platelike segments, almost like an insect. Great wings unfurled upon his back as the last of the segments shifted into place, and even his face was covered in the material. It all took a mere few seconds to complete the transformation, and in that time you’d found yourself unable to blink even once. That, along with the fact that you’d been too anxious to have more than a single drink, led you to one logical conclusion. 

“Great,” you said at length. “I’ve gone fucking crazy.” 

“You aren’t crazy,” spoke the being before you. 

You could only gape. It was his voice. Distorted, rumbly, and with an odd sort of echo, it was Dante’s voice nevertheless. You blinked, and he was as he appeared before, whole and human. He tugged his shirt back on and you realized that removing it had been for your benefit, to help convince you of his truth. He could have made the change without taking it off. 

“And I’m not lying to you. I swear I’m not. The hell would I make something like that up for?” 

He had a point. You’d known the man a couple of months now, and while he was known to be a bit of a goofball, nothing in his demeanor had ever once suggested that he was even capable of such a ruse, let alone that he’d _want_ to make something like this up. Putting that aside, you couldn’t shake how much sense certain things would make if what he was saying was true. The business, the heavy weaponry, the damned sword he kept on the wall, all of the weird little tidbits he’d brought to you in the early days…

The primal fear of what had lurked in that alleyway. 

“You’re telling me that monsters are real...and what, you’re one too?”

“...well, partly. It’s uh...a long story,” Dante answered. 

You hadn’t screamed or run away, so all things considered, Dante considered the situation a win so far. 

“Well I’m...all ears...I guess.” 

You felt woozy, overwhelmed by this new information. If you hadn’t just witnessed it with your own eyes, hadn’t seen his very flesh shift and morph before your watchful gaze, you wouldn't have believed a word. It was all a whirling cascade, knowledge weighing heavy on you. There was a burning need to know more, to make sense of things. 

“Just um...I need to sit down.” 

\-------------------

The night had stretched on past midnight, into the small hours of the morning by the time Dante finished talking. Lady and Trish had shown up at a brief interval, taken one look at where you sat on the curb, and moved on with near-matching expressions of remorse. Their arrival spawned more questions from you, and so the conversation stretched even further into the night. Time had lost all meaning at that point, and you had gone so far beyond tired that you looped back around to alert. Dante looked exhausted, watching for your reaction to all of this. 

Honestly, you felt a myriad of emotions, disbelief being chief. How exactly were you supposed to take such a huge drop of information? Just that morning, your biggest worry in the world had been how to price an old lacquered jewelry box you’d taken in from an estate sale. But to learn that a whole other world existed alongside yours? That was going to take some time to process, and you felt the need to say as much. Creeping up alongside your disbelief was the knowledge of the truth, the weight of knowing what Dante had been doing this whole time, hidden from the rest of humanity. 

How the hell had he managed to maintain a smile on his face at all given what he’d gone through? 

You could hardly fathom what it would be like to have to fight and kill a member of your own family, or to lose a parent at such an early age. To then take all of that pain and tragedy and use it as motivation to do something to help other people… Well, he had to have some immense courage and conviction. If even half of what he’d told you was true, well, you’d have needed decades of therapy were you in his shoes. 

“Okay,” you said, when he was finally done speaking, had closed his eyes with a world-weary sigh. “It’s gonna take some time to process, but I think i believe you.” 

You stood up for a good stretch, the curb where you’d made a seat leaving an ache in  your spine. Dante stared up at you, his tired features drawn and aging him a decade. 

“Do you now?” he asked. Even his voice sounded exhausted. Your heart went out to him. 

“I do,” you assured him, voice soft. “It’s a little scary to think about, but I mean...you’ve never given me a reason _not_ to believe it. Hell, I didn’t use to think _axolotls_ were a real thing, but here we are. I’ve definitely been wrong before."

Scary was an understatement. How many people in the world could be disguised demons? How close did you brush with death on a daily basis just interacting with people (who could also be demons in disguise)? What would have become of you had you lingered beside your shop that night? 

You didn’t know, didn't want to know, and didn’t want to think about it. Ignorance truly was bliss. Yet, you could hardly ignore the pain in Dante’s eyes as he spoke to you, almost as though his fear of rejection mirrored your own. It was all too easy to understand. No wonder he’d never been particularly forthright with details about his life. If you had bloodlines that enabled you to transform into a demonic form, you were sure you’d have a hell of a time connecting to people too. 

As scary as it all was to think about, you found that you simply weren't scared of _him_. Even though you’d seen his twisted, fierce other form with your own eyes, there’d been a distinct lack of any kind of visceral fear. 

“You’ve been protecting me,” you realized. 

Even before you knew a thing about his life, even before he walked into your shop for the first time, he’d been keeping you safe in a way. More than that, however, was the realization that this was what held you back from one another this whole time. Now that his secret was out, did you feel any different about him? 

The answer was clear before you even considered the question. He was Dante. The clever-tongued, cocky, goofball of a neighbor you’d grown so fond of. It would be hard to change how you felt about him. So what if he was half monster too? Knowing you had a monster on your side was oddly comforting, honestly. 

Automatically, your feet moved you closer to him. Since he’d been sitting next to you on the curb, he no longer towered above you. Instead, it was you who had to lean down, hands outstretched until you touched the sides of his face. What you felt was human skin, slightly prickly from stubble and warm, as you expected. 

“So you’re a bit of a freak,” you said, keeping your tone light, voice a gentle whisper. “That’ll probably take some time to really sink in.”

Your fingers fanned over his scalp, threading into his hair. Dante’s eyes drifted shut, a sigh escaping parted lips as a light shiver ran through his frame. 

“But in case you haven't noticed…” 

It was now or never. And really, you couldn’t take it anymore. Even now, with all that you had just seen, you wanted him so badly you could feel it in your bones. But this...this was more than that. You wanted to reassure him. You weren't going anywhere. 

You closed your eyes too, giving a shaky chuckle. 

“I’m pretty into you.” 

Leaning in, you finally gave form to the frustration roiling within you for all those weeks. Kissing Dante was the easiest thing in the world, mouth fitting to his almost perfectly. You applauded yourself for managing to avoid bumping his nose with yours,  giving you that perfect movie- quality first kiss that so rarely occurred. Your lips were firm, insistent, and said all that words could not. For a moment he was completely still and unresponsive, and you feared you had overstepped a boundary there. But only for a moment. 

After the tense, heavy second passed, you felt Dante’s hands on your waist, tugging you down to your knees and kissing you back with equal fervor. His own longing took shape in the way he nipped at your lower lip, your gasp of surprise granting access to your tongue. The hunger of his kiss drew a moan from you, drove the breath right out of your lungs, and was the force which finally broke the two of you apart. Both of you had opened your eyes, foreheads rested against one another, shaking a little and breathing ragged. Dante let out a rumbling chuckle. 

“Yeah? Well ain’t that a coincidence?”


End file.
